Racing With The Harvest
by puffysleeves
Summary: Anne finds Diana in a poor situation. Will her visit uplift Diana's broken spirit?
1. Default Chapter

Here is my newest story. It will be different from the Anne and Gilbert story by LMM, however it has the same characters. I am moving them to the Midwest of the United States. I am sure I can write them better since I know more about the culture here. They will also be in a different time frame 1924- World War II. I hope that is okay. Also, I am not trying to be LMM, so please keep that in mind.

**PREFACE**

The farmland was covered in a dazzling blanket of unbroken white. Occasionally, a long stretch of barbed wire fence peeped out of a drift here and there. The covered fields created an unending plane of snow refracting sunlight so bright that it hurt your eyes to look across it. Wind breaks of old bare Maple and Cottonwood tree trunks hiding sparse farm houses and barns were the only items breaking up the monotony of the wintery landscape.

The brisk chill in the December air burned Dr. Stewart's lungs. The blasted black Ford couldn't make it up the steep snowy incline to the Shirley residence atop the hill. Clouds of steam puffed around his nose and frosty moustache. He waddled as fast as his chubby legs would carry him up the slippery hill. His heart banged loudly inside his old chest.

He knew he shouldn't push his heart so, but it was an emergency. Walter Shirley and his wife were ill and they had a one month old baby daughter. Nobody had heard from them in two days and their neighbor, Matthew Cuthbert, hadn't seen smoke coming from the chimney since before the storm a day ago. Nobody could come sooner because of the heavy snow fall yesterday.

He huffed one last time and finally stood at the top of the hill. A sense of pride washed over the roly poly gentleman as he looked back down the steep incline. A small orange tabby cat welcomed the doctor eagerly rubbing her rough coat against his warm leg. There were no signs of anyone. The snow hadn't been walked in or scooped. All was quiet, except the cows in the barn who were bellowing to be milked. This alarmed the doctor and he shuffled his way through the knee high snow towards the front porch.

He knocked loudly on the wooden screen door afraid that he would break the cold glass window on the front door. No one answered. The screen door hinges squeaked outloud in resistance against the frozen snow lodged next to it. The door's opening pushed the area free of snow, allowing the doctor to peer inside through the frosty glass.

Nothing. He opened the door and found himself standing inside the Shirley's cold kitchen. The friendly cat slipped through his legs and into the house. Out of habit he stomped his snowy feet on the braided rug set there for that purpose. The few dirty dishes set inside the sink let him know the young family hadn't went on a trip. The loud meow of the cold cat echoed in the empty kitchen as she hopped onto the wooden countertop searching for a morsel of food. The hungry animal knocked over an empty Mason jar and sent it careening onto the floor. The shattering of the glass aroused a wail from a room somewhere in the house.

The doctor left the ornery cat and searched the house. No one was on the first level. He found the open staircase and made his way up noticing the collection of glass angel figurines posed on shelves along the wall. The hard soles of his shoes echoed on the waxed wood floors of the small upstairs. There were two rooms, one at the end of the hallway and one near the stairwell. He would start there.

Frost was on the pale blue walls. A double bed sat near the heat return in the floor. It immediately drew his attention. Two humps layed under the covers. The doctor's pulse quickened when his mind registered what he had discovered. Quickly he ran to the bed and pulled back the covers. Walter Shirley, blue in the face, laid in his night clothes. Snuggled next to him was an old red hot water bottle. He had to have been dead for sometime now. Dr. Stewart checked the dead man's pulse hoping for a miracle. The cold flesh of the departed man chilled the doctor's warm digits. There was no hope, the doctor covered Walter's head with a patchwork quilt that only a year ago had been given to him as a wedding present from his mother.

The doctor now feared what layed in wait next door. He straightened his worn back and trudged down the quiet hall. The door to the last room was a jar, letting him peer inside. A small bassinet sat next to a still wooden rocker. He pushed the door open and found Mrs. Shirley covered with a crocheted green afghan. She appeared to be sleeping. The doctor didn't want to awaken her yet, she was still recovering from the terrible delivery and her illness. She didn't need to worry about her husband yet.

In the bassinet was the babe he had delivered almost a month ago. He would never forget that night. It had been one of the worst deliveries he had ever seen, which was a lot for a man almost 50. The baby was wrapped snugly in a few layers of blankets with her head lovingly covered in a small bonnet. The doctor cleared his throat to announce his presence.

The baby began hoarsely crying. No movement or acknowledgement came from the sleeping mother. He grabbed the small child and immediately noticed how wet her dressings and blankets were. He quickly checked over the wee thing, and clumsily changed her dress and cloth diaper. A nasty red rash was spreading across her plump bottom. She had to have been laying in the wet clothing for awhile. The baby stopped crying and began to whimper.

He cuddled the girl and made his way over to her young mother. He tapped the sleeping lady on her shoulders, then nudged the wooden chair with his foot, and finally he checked her pulse on her cool wrist. The lines on his aged forehead narrowed together in dissapointment. There was nothing more to do here until he could get home to his telephone and call the mortician.

Dr. Stewart swaddled the tiny orphan in some blankets he found. Together they made their way back down the hilly road to his stranded automobile. That was how Dr. Stewart and Anne Shirley spent the last morning of 1924.

-

**GONE WITH THE WIND**

The hot wind rushed over the flat land. Dust and the remnants of dry gass and failed crops clouded the sky. Anne Shirley rushed to get the remainder of wash off the clothesline. Mrs. Hammond was busy shutting the windows and covering the dishes and food with towels to keep the dust off.

Anne hated the dust winds. They stung her skin and covered everything in a fine powder of dirt. On bad days, Anne could even taste the dirt in her food. Dirt was everywhere. The once green landscape was dirt. The houses were engulfed inside and out with dirt. It was impossible to keep things clean and the incessant howl of the winds carrying the filth scared Anne. Her active imagination allowed her to envision wild banshees calling her name across the dessimated fields promising her impending death.

She often stayed up late at night when neighbors came visiting. The grown-ups would sit in the kitchen and play pitch. As they played cards and drank coffee they would recall stories and past times. Anne secretly would lay on the floor next to the iron heat register in the children's room to eaves drop. Gossip mainly greeted her ears on most nights, but once in awhile a fascinating tale floated her way. That is how she heard about the banshees of Ireland and the death of the little Lewis boy.

The young eight year old was walking home from school when it happened. It was a fine afternoon with no wind or dust on the horizon. Somewhere between the school house and his farm a mighty dust wind blew up. He became disoriented in the darkness of the swirling debris. His skin was scratched from the pelting sand and his tiny lungs became filled with sand slowly suffocating him. When the winds let down, his mother found his dead body covered in a sand drift huddled next to the apple tree 15 feet away from the front door. The night before she swore she heard a banshee screech his name over the prairie.

The wet sheets flapped against her bare legs breaking Anne's morbid trance. The images of the Lewis boy left her mind just as quickly as they had came. She fumbled with the wooden clothespins and wet laundry the best her small frame could. There was an abundance of small diapers and baby clothes, and they took longer to hang and take down then the sheets. The Hammonds had 2 sets of twins under the age of 5. Anne had came to their house three years ago to help Mrs. Hammond with the children. Anne was gracious that the Hammonds had taken her in, because as long as she could remember she had been raised in orphan asylums, often being moved here and there due to the lack of charitable contributions.

"ANNE! Hurry" yelled Mrs. Hammond at the top of her lungs against the increasing wind"The winds are picking up".

"Coming" screamed Anne as he grabbed the last diaper and lugged the heavy basket into the house.

Mrs. Hammond shut the door quickly and bolted it shut. The woman rolled a towel out of habit and efficiently stuffed it in the small crack at the bottom of the door. She did this to keep the dust from seeping under the jam eventually causing sand dunes to form inside the house. It was bad enough that after some terrible winds they would have to scoop a path just to get out of the house. Anne sat down by her basket and took a deep breathe. The winds were really beginning to blow and the dark outline of the oncoming dust storm was already on the horizon.

Mrs. Hammond sat down beside Anne and pulled her close. She smoothed the petite girl's wind blown red hair. The storms drove them both batty. It helped to feel the comfort of one another. The tinkle of tiny sand grains hitting against the windows let them know they had barely made it inside safely. They sat entwined comforting each other for a short moment before they got back to their chores.

Anne made her way into the kitchen and began laying the wet laundry around, hoping that the heat from the cooking range and August day would be enough to dry them. The wooden chairs soon became covered in whites and light pastel colors. Towels and sheets were hung on two strings that Mr. Hammond had erected across the small room. The room suddenly resembled a pirate ship full of masses let down to grab the wind. Anne chuckled at the thought and added a couple of dried corn cobs to the fire on the stove. Soon they would need to start dinner and it took ages to cook anything if the fire was low.

A loud thump on the ceiling above let her know that atleast one of the children was awake. She quickly shut the heavy door and latched the handle ensuring it was closed properly. Heat began to radiate from the stove making the room overly stuffy and Anne feeling nautious in her stomach. Anne was glad to leave her massed vessel for her crew awaiting upstairs.

Mrs. Hammond sat at the upright piano in the living room picking out notes. She sat with perfect posture and titlted her head over onto her shoulder. The remaining sunlight played with the blonde strands in the sea of brown, making them twinkle in the dusty house. A sweet melody wafted throughout the house drowning the terrible moans bellowing from the wind outside. Once a month the town would get a movie for people to see at the town hall on Saturday night. Mrs. Hammond played the piano before the show and during intermission. Sometimes she played the music throughout the entire movie, but those were usually old silent ones. Nobody minded whether they talked or not, it was a treat just to see a movie.

On Saturday nights the Hammond family would go to town to pick up groceries and other necessities. Anne loved Saturdays. Saturdays were filled with baking bread and cookies for the week. Sometimes she would make 10 or 12 loaves of bread for Mrs. Hammond. That was followed by baths and an early supper of warm bread and milk. While the girls did the supper dishes, Mr. Hammond would load up the old Ford truck with babies and toddlers. Soon they would be bouncing down the dirt road to town crammed inside the cab. On rare occasions Mrs. Hammond would let Anne ride in the back so she could feel the breeze whip through her hair. Anne sighed sadly, it was only Thursday. She slowly walked up the staircase running her hand along the smooth wooden bannister in sweet anticipation of the weekend.

Just last week Mrs. Lindblad had dropped in to buy some fresh eggs to make a birthday cake for her husband. Her graying hair was braided and perfectly wrapped around her head fashioning a halo of sorts. She had always worn her hair that way as long as Anne could remember. She woreone hat that matched everyone of her flowered dresses, beige stockings, and perfectly laced brown heeled shoes. Anne always marveled at the clean white gloves Mrs. Lindblad wore and the faint smell of lilacs that accompanied her presence. The women's round figure and joyful personality made her a cherished neighbor and grandmother figure to the Hammonds. Mrs. Lindblad's memory stretched back to the late 1860's when she rode in a covered wagon over unbroken sod and prairie with her parents to Nebraska Territory. She knew all kinds of folklore, remedies, and stories. Anne truly enjoyed her visits and always looked forward to the next time they would meet.

On her last visit, Anne had overheard Mrs. Hammond hint to Mrs. Lindblad that this month they would get to see GONE WITH THE WIND. That made Anne smile and dream sweetly the night she overheard them whispering. She had read Mrs. Hammond's copy of Margaret Mitchell's story this past summer and was enthralled with the love story of Rhett and Scarlet. Articles about the movie were written in all the women magazines that were delivered by mail over the past few months. Clark Gable as Rhett Butler! Anne was so smitten with the actor, she couldn't think of anything else. His dark hair combed back with Dapper Dan and that trimmed moustache he wore snugly above his upper lip was enough to make her knees quiver. She secretly tore some of his pictures from the pages filling the magazines before she placed them in the outhouse to be used for wiping. She carefully stored her precious treasures under her mattress pressed inside a small reader for safe keeping.

The top of the stairs led into a long hallway, Anne walked her fingers along the railing while she inched her way closer to the oldest twin's bedrooms. There were three rooms upstairs, including an old trunk room near the stairwell. That room had been converted to a sleeping area for Anne. The other two rooms were for the children. Quietly, she turned into the open door frame and checked on the girls. Inside she found one of the little darlings sucking her thumb and rocking her baby doll made from an old dress of Anne's. Soft brunette ringlets made a crown around the four year old's head. She eagerly reached out her pudgy arms for Anne to lift her up. Anne sat down beside her instead and lifted the cherub onto her lap. Her sister, Augusta, still snored in the tiny bed against the wall.

"Birdie, you know you are getting to big for me to carry you" whispered Anne as she hugged the little child.

"Anne, will you play tea party" begged Alberta looking at the little tea pot and glued-back-together cups perched upon a small bench.

Anne nodded in agreement. Right now there was nothing to do but sit inside and watch the good soil fly away with the winds. For now they would play like elegant ladies keeping their minds off of the winds raging outside. She held her pinkie out and sipped her imaginary tea much to the child's delight.


	2. Warm Toast

**WARM TOAST**

It was late Friday night and everyone had been asleep for atleast a couple of hours. A loud banging on the front door summoned Mr. and Mrs. Hammond from bed. Anne curiously peeked down the stairs to see what all the commotion was about. She didn't want to be seen in her nightgown by the neighbors. The dim moonlight allowed Anne to see a young man's silhoutte standing outside talking quietly to Mr. Hammond. Anne didn't recognize him, but he had to have been 16 or 17,close tothe same age as herself. Anne put more of her weight on the bannister and stretched her neck out farther past the railing to get a better glimpse of the stranger.

Mrs. Hammond boundedacross the bottom of thestairs, almost catching Anne prying into their business. Mrs. Hammond went scurrying back to her room and changed into her green dress and a clean apron. Anne sat in the dark corner clutching her knees. She hoped that no one had seen her, especially the young man. She heard Mr. Hammond's foot steps and the young man's when they entered the house. Mrs. Hammond calmly returned backinto the kitchenand began moving things around in the kitchen.

Sounds of the stove door and the cast iron skillets clinking aroused Anne's intrigue. It took everything she had not to sneak down to the base of the stairs. With great effort she strained her ears to listen to the sounds around her. Cracking eggs. Was that sizzling ham or bacon? The smell of cooking ham and eggs filled the old farm house, causing her stomach to rumble in anticipation of the grand meal. They usually had oatmeal and toast. It was rare that Mrs. Hammond would make such a grand breakfast, especially when things were so tight because the crop failed again. She had heard tales of people that would find bones scattered among the prairie, and use them for soups made with the roots they could find on their land. Anne even knew of a family who only ate popcorn and drank milk for a whole winter just to survive. People were so adamant about staying or making ends meet, but hardly anyone she knew would take a handout from the county.

Anne decided that sitting in her nightie in the corner was not helping her learn anything about the unfolding events downstairs. She decided to go to her room and change into her Sunday dress. Their every day clothes had been fashioned out of the grain and flour sacks made from different prints of fabric Mr. Hammond would save for them. Her special outfit was a beautiful white dress that Mrs. Hammond had sewn from part of her wedding dress detailed with some ribbons they bought at the Dime Store in town. It was finer than the dresses the children and she usually wore. This dress hung loosely on Anne's small frame, but Mrs. Hammond had cinched it tighter around Anne's hips making a distinction between the top and the skirt which properly hung down to just above her knees. Shiny blue ribbons and fancy pleating ran up the breast of her dress making Anne feel like she was a princess to own such a grand dress.

Anne quietly slipped out of her nightgown and into the dress. The stranger must be someone important to make such a fuss over. Anne pulled the pins out of her pin curls she had set in her shoulder length hair the night before. Ringlets fell down covering her neck long neck. She slowly smoothed the curls with her brush over her hand creating beautiful red waves. She choose a blue ribbon that matched the hue of the ribbons on her dress and carefully tied a large bow pulling back the left side of her hair next to her ear. She hoped that she looked respectable enough as she tiptoed out of her room.

The brightly lit kitchen made her eyes squint because of the contrast from the dark hall. Inside she found Mrs. Hammond dutifully preparing breakfast for her husband and the young man. Mr. Hammond, still in his robe, sat at the table discussing something with the stranger. The stranger had dark wavy hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a strong chin. He wore work clothes, similar to other farmers and Mr. Hammond, that consisted of basic overalls and a homemade shirt. The stranger sat engrossed in conversation and didn't notice Anne.

"Anne?" questioned a shocked Mrs. Hammond at the sight of her dressed up in her finest at this hour of the morning.

"Yes ma'm. I heard somebody come inside and then I smelled breakfast. I thought I could help," confessed Anne.

"You do beat all Anne," said Mrs. Hammond with a sly smile.

"I can butter the bread for toast and put it on the rack near the flames for you," volunteered Anne.

She was eager to help and sit at the table close enough for overhearing the discussion. She gathered the bread, butter, and knives and placed them on a spot closest to the range. She sat and carefully sliced the hard bread with sawing motions like she had been taught. Thin slices of her homemade bread soon began to pile up in front of her. The conversation stalled and all eyes were on Anne's mountain of bread. Anne stopped and realized that everyone was looking at her.

"Well, Gilbert... I hope you like toast," chuckled Mr. Hammond.

"I reckon I do Mr. Hammond, but I am not sure I like it THAT much," chimed Gilbert as he examined the pile and the red head behind it.

"Gilbert Blythe this is Anne Shirley," introduced Mr. Hammond.

"Pleased to meet you," nodded Anne.

"Likewise, Anne," grinned Gilbert as he rolled her name of his tongue. He liked the way it felt.

"Anne has been staying with us for some time now. She helps Eliene with the little ones. We really appreciate Anne's help around here," stated Mr. Hammond almost boasting.

"I assume there are a lot of people new to these parts that I don't know. I am glad that Father is well enough to return to the farm. I really missed Osmond and the people," said Gilbert as he glanced over at Anne laboring over spreading the hard butter on the soft innards of the bread.

"I am glad you are back, too. I have missed a good visit with your father. I will fetch the keys for the house after we finish breakfast and then I can take you over to the place," said Mr. Hammond as he noticed the Blythe boy watching Anne.

"I would greatly appreciate it, sir," thanked Gilbert.

"Well Gilbert, I would enjoy a recap of the story concerning your father and two elk he tried to break to harness during your time away. He briefly mentioned it in his last letter," started Mr. Hammond.

Anne finally finished preparing the slices for the rack as she listened to the tale of the poor elk learning to be horses. She put the bread inside the metal wires, butter side facing out and placed them near the open oven door. In very little time they browned on the edges and the butter melted on the middle. The fragrant smell of the toasting bread mingled with the eggs and ham. Eliene placed a plate of food in front of each man and began dishing one up for Anne. Soon everyone was sitting in front of a heaping plate of ham and eggs. They all bowed their heads and Mr. Hammond said grace.

"Come Lord Jesus, Be our guest and let these gifts to us be blessed. Amen."

Everyone dug into the good food and enjoyed the feast they seldom had. Nobody talked during breakfast, but Gilbert couldn't keep his eyes off of Anne. He made a special effort to eat a lot of her toast, warming his body and heart. Mr. Hammond noticed the glances he was giving his young charge. He didn't know if he should laugh or feel protective. In his mind, Anne was too young for a romantic relationship.

Soon the men had their fill and were off down the dusty lane to the abandoned Blythe residence. Mrs. Hammond and Anne cleaned up the empty kitchen. Anne removed the kettle off the stove using a hand towel and poured it into the sink basin. She added a handful of soap flakes and stirred the hot liquid making bubbles form. She reluctantly stuck her hands in the burning water and washed the morning dishes. She placed the wet dishes on the countertop to air dry hoping that Mrs. Hammond wouldn't make her towel dry them right away.

Orange hued light filtered through the dusty East kitchen window. The children would soon be waking and wanting their breakfasts. Anne started the oatmeal and set the bowls around the table. There was no need to make more toast, a few pieces were left over. Gilbert really enjoyed her toast that morning. Hopefully, the children would like it as well.

**WATERFALLS**

Anne pumped little Donald up and down on her knee trying to keep him quiet. Douglas sat on the floor upon a blanket in front of her feet and quietly chewed on the heal of some dry bread Anne had brought along for that purpose. They were teething and in a grumpy mood. Birdie and Gusty sat in the corner playing with some paper dolls another little girl from town had brought along. Mrs. Hammond was talking nearby with some ladies from church. Mr. Hammond was probably somewhere sitting outside listening to a few men recount the last baseball game with Plainview.

The town hall was packed, people overflowed the rickety wooden folding chairs and sat down onto the floor. A couple of men had even brought in timbers and some nail kegs to make benches for the crowd. She looked around for Gilbert and Mr. Blythe, but they were nowhere to be seen. They were probably busy settling in. The wooden chair rubbed against the back of her legs making them sweat. Smells of cigar and pipe smoke mingled with body odor and popcorn. The humidity of the day hung in the air and stuck to their skin. She could barely take anymore, how much longer before they started the movie? Anne was growing restless and agitated. All she really wanted was to see the beginning of the movie.

Mrs. Hammond nodded goodbye to the ladies and made her way over to the old piano in the corner. The overhead lights flicked off and hisses to be quiet sprang through the crowd. The faint tinkling of Mrs. Hammond playing an overture drifted across the room. The melody soothed Donald and soon he was asleep. Anne smoothed his sweaty hair and gently laid him down next to his munching brother. She took a deep breathe and relaxed her body against the back of the chair. She craved a cool breeze to blow through the stuffy hall, and bring a calming sensation to her hot body.

Clicking sounds from the movie reel announced that the picture was about to begin. Scratches and numbers counted down to the beginning of the film. Shivers raced down her back as the words raced across the screen. She was actually going to see Gone With The Wind!

Images and sounds danced around Anne as she became entranced by the movie. It was breath taking allowing her to forget the heat and humidity. The dresses, houses, and grandeur were spectacular. Vivian Leigh was so beautiful, her dark hair shimmered so nicely, and she wore dazzling dresses that definetly weren't made from the feed sack cloth. All the men liked her and wanted to be her escort. Anne longed to be considered beautiful with raven dark hair and to have dashing young men vyeing for her atttention. In a matter of moments she was engulfed in the antebellum South and a world dominated by Scarlet O'Hara. Anne didn't notice Gilbert Blythe sneek in and quietly sit behind her.

Light reflecting from the screen illuminated Anne's face. Gilbert couldn't help but notice her. The moving pictures on the screen couldn't hold his attention. He longed to run his fingers through her hair. He had only seen red hair once before when he was traveling with his father. The beautiful lady waited on them at a little resteraunt near the train station in Kansas City. Anne's hair was exactly the same shade of red. He couldn't put his finger on why she tormented him so. He had only met her the other morning. Gilbert was drawn to her like an ant to a picnic.

"She's just a little girl! Stop it! Stop staring at her. You are almost 18, you have no right to be drawn to a young girl who isn't even able to receive suitors yet! Stop it!" yelled Gilbert's inner voice to himself.

Harshly the lights came on in the town hall. Anne blinked as her pupils dilated to adjust to the sudden brightness. It was intermission time. Mrs. Hammond began playing the piano while a few people stood up and walked around. Anne was mesmerized by what she had just seen. The boys stirred at her feet and tugged on the white socks folded down around her ankles.

"I see you two have ants in your pants," teased Anne to the twin boys, "Do you want to walk around for a bit before it's time to watch the second half?"

She took their babbles as a yes and grabbed a tiny hand in each of her own. The little guys wobbled back and forth, but they slowly managed to walk their way near the back of the hall. Carefully, she aided the boys down onto the floor and let them crawl around to explore the cool hard floor. Someone had opened a window and Anne gazed out at the night sky.

Sounds of the locusts buzzing and a few bullfrogs in the distance sang along to the chatter of people inside. On the horizon a shadow of a few clouds loomed. A few stars were beginning to poke out of the new fallen darkness. She focused her gaze on a tiny star above the old elm tree near the bar and in a light whisper recited:

"Star light,

Star bright,

First star I see tonight,

I wish I may,

I wish I might,

Have this wish I wish tonight."

She contemplated her wish and then softly she spoke, "I wish I was beautiful and had a life full of adventure like Scarlet. Maybe even a Rhett?"

A cool breeze wafted through the window. Anne relished it. It had been days since she felt a breeze that wasn't dry or full of sand. The blue checked fabric on her simple dress fluttered in the wind. She longed for a nice rain shower or a cool autumn day. Through the open window another light breeze rushed past her.

She smiled and imagined her wish floating on a breeze up to the heavens. Hopefully it wouldn't take years to get her wish. Josie Pye, a mean girl from church who was the same age as her, told Anne that it took seven years for each wish to reach the wishing star and seven more years to get back to Earth.

"Nonsense," Anne shook her head and reassured herself as she noticed Donald was gone.

"Donald!" called Anne.

"Douglas, where did your brother go?" teased Anne as she picked up the boy and placed him on her hip.

Anne looked around the floor near the window. He was not anywhere to be seen. Worries began to swell up in her heart as her pulse quickened. What was she going to do? Should she tell Mrs. Hammond?

She moved around a few old men who were chewing the fat about work crews commissioned by the President to build a damn up in Yankton. They had built a couple of schools and bridges across the state already. New Jobs meant a lot and brought hope. Many of the farmers were going under and leaving the area for work in the cities. None of that bothered Anne right now, she needed to find Donald.

"Hey, Anne!" yelled a male voice.

Anne turned around to look Gilbert in the face. Hisdevishly blueeyes were dashing, the thought surprised Anne. Gilbert Blythe stood holding a restless Donald.

"Did you loose something?" joked Gilbert, smiling intensely.

"Thank you. I was rather worried," a relieved Anne said with a sigh, "How did you corral him?"

"He found me over by the corner. I don't think he was harmed by his adventure and I think I have made a new little buddy," laughed Gilbert as Donald tugged on his bottom lip.

Gilbert handed the squirming boy to Anne. Her small frame looked like it would topple over as she stood with a babe on each hip. She blew a strand of stray hair from her forehead and smiled up at him.

"I appreciate you bringing him to me. I didn't want to bother Mrs. Hammond during the intermission," said a grateful Anne.

"Let me take one for you and I will walk you back to your seat. Mrs. Hammond is starting to play the "waterfalls" and you know that means the show will be starting soon," gleamed Gilbert.

Anne handed him his newly acquired friend and they made their way back hoping to reachtheir seatsbefore Mrs. Hammond finished. The scales on the piano raced up and down faster and faster. Everyone called them the "waterfalls" because they reminded them of water racing along the Missouri river. Anne sat down holding Douglas while Gilbert kept Donald and sat down behind them. The room went dark and the movie popped back up on the screen.

Heavy drops of rain began to splatter against the dry and parched land. Scarlet and Rhett captivated the audience's attention, no one noticed the rain that was beginning to fall outside.


	3. Buried

**Buried **

Anne sat huddled between the sleeping babies and toddlers as they bounced over the wash board ruts on the graveled road to the farm. Her mind drifted from scene to scene as it played in the movie, imagining herself as Scarlet O'Hara. It was terrible how they ended it, she thought. Worries and hopes kept her mind occupied for the drive home. The steady down pour of rain patted against the metal of the truck, enducing a calm feeling. Mrs. Hammond hummed a new melody she was learning and Mr. Hammond kept rubbing the glass with his sleeve to keep the fog away.

A flash of lightening streaked against the sky, flashing a bright yellow and pink glow onto the Nebraska landscape. Anne could see the bare fields and barbed wire fences. They had just passed the old cedar windbreak near the lane to the house. Anne wandered if they would take the winter road across the north field, sometimes the dips in the regular lane flooded. She watched as they passed the mail boxes posted near the edge of the road. They were taking the regular lane back. Anne sat back and closed her eyes. Soon she would be able to cuddle under the covers, listen to the rain falling outside, and dream about Clark Gable.

A jerk sent her bouncing in her seat. Donald let loose a wail and the two girls started crying. The pickup veered to the left as Mr. Hammond pressed the clutch and slammed on the brake. The slick mud offered no resistance against the truck's rubber tires allowing it to slide into the deep ditch edging the lane. Mrs. Hammond flew frontwards and smacked her head against the hard dashboard. Finally, they skidded to a stop. Douglas laughed and Mrs. Hammond moaned.

Two round beams of light streamed into the stormy sky letting the shaken passengers see the herd of stunned mule deer standing around them. Anne didn't know who was more shaken, them or the deer. The deer just stood there motionless among the dry grasses and mud. It would be the prime time to bag one for processing. Deer meat didn't taste as good as beef, but it was better than pheasant. Mr. Hammond began cussing in German as he slammed his hands down on the steering wheel. Mumbling something, he exited the truck to see what damage had been done.

Anne turned her attention to the crying children. Mrs. Hammond was still holding her head and didn't need to deal with them at that moment. Douglas was busy eyeing the deer outside of his foggy window. She took his lead and tried to distracttheir tearsby showing the little ones the accident causing mammals standing in the rain. Birdie and Gusty glanced out the window and soon forgot their woes. Donald sucked his thumb and went back to sleep.

Soon the windows were completely fogged over, offering the perfect canvas for drawing with their fingers. The cool condensation tickled their fingertips as they drew hearts and letters on the glass. Mrs. Hammond laughed and soon joined in. Mr. Hammond was busy kicking out his frustrations on the buried tires stuck in the mud.

The driver's side door opened and Mr. Hammond stuck his drenched head in. "Ladies, I need you to gather the kids and walk back to the house. I will carry the groceries and tomorrow I can dig out the truck" he ordered.

Anne and Mrs. Hammond wrapped the children up as best as possible and trudged home through the light rain. All the sand and dirt mixed with the rain made the perfect mud. It was slick and sticky, gooey and gross- excellent for mud pies and sliding in. Anne knew she wouldn't get to play in the mud, but it was tempting. The thick goop stuck to their shoes making their feet grow heavier with each step.

They finally reached the house and scraped their shoes on the metal rail put by the back door. Mrs. Hammond didn't want to muddy up the floor so they took their shoes off under the protection the eaves of the roof provided and left the filthy footwear outside for the night. They walked into the dark, quiet house and put the children to bed. Anne crawled in bed next to Gusty to calm her fears about the thunder booming in the distance. Thoughtsof Clark Gable ran through her mind while she drifted off to sleep.

The clucking and crowing of the chickens woke Anne up. The house was still, but the sunlight was already poking through the window. She rolled out of bed, trying her hardest not to wake up the sleeping child. The floor was cool against her warm feet as she stumbled to her clothes. Today was Sunday, but there would be no church for them. Mr. Hammond hopefully could dig out the truck today. She choose a simple white dress, slipped it on, and snuck out to the outhouse.

The rain from the night before had cooled down the evening air, but the sun was beating down on the Earth promising another day of heat. She exited from the outhouse and looked up at the dazzling orb. It was blazing and no clouds in sight. Anne sighed and anticipated the cool autumn to come. She wiped the sweat off her brow and grabbed a basket to gather the eggs for breakfast. The parched ground was already drying and cracking after the rain allowing a few puddles to form in the deepest dips of the landscape.

An aroma of dust, hay, and chicken waste greeted Anne's nose when she stepped inside the coop. The hens clucked wildly at her as she swiped under their bottoms to check for eggs. A few pecked at her, but mostly they just bawked at her intrusion. Mrs. Hammond hoped to let a few hens brood next spring and hatch some more chicks for butchering later in the summer. Anne's mouth watered at the thought of fried chicken, but she hated cleaning them. She checked each nest and almost had a full basket. Hopefully, there would be some eggs left over to sell in town next week.

She retreated inside the house and started breakfast. There still was no sign of Mr. or Mrs. Hammond. They were probably sleeping in for a change. Anne blew on the embers left from last night's fire in the belly of the stove. Carefully, she added some dry grasses and watched them glow red and slowly crinkle up in flame. Instinctively, she added a few corncobs to the kindling and placed the lid over the hole. She found the cast iron skillet and added a slab of butter. She placed it on the stove and began to check the eggs.

She held each egg over a lit candle. The flame illuminated the insides of the eggs. Anne checked for any red streaks or odd looking yolks. Occasionally she would find a fertilized egg, but they tried to keep the roosters from the hens unless they wanted chicks. She had mastered this skill at a very young age and soon had four or five eggs sizzling in the pan.

The front screen door banged, making Anne look up from the bubbling egg whites. Mrs. Hammond stood in front of her bewildered and gasping for air. Her dress and apron were covered in mud. She was hunched over her knees grasping for words.

"Anne. . .Mr. Ham. . . Mr. Hammond. . .needs a. . .doctor. . .Go . . .get him" she demanded.

Fear gripped Anne and she quickly removed the frying pan from the stove. She slipped on her shoes out back and took off across the fields toward town. Dr. Stewart would come, hopefully he wasn't in church or out on another call. It was atleast 3 miles to town if she crossed the fields, that would take forever. Anne didn't think they had that much time. She stopped in her tracks and turned around. The Blythe's had a phone! She would call the doctor from their place.

The remaining mud made it difficult to run up the last few hills, the grooves from the plows and chopped corn stalks were her only savior. She was out of breath and tired. Mud clung to every part of her body, but she didn't give up. Anne could see the smoke dancing from the chimney. Out of breathe, she reached the front door and collapsed on her knees. Tears began streaming down her muddy face. Weakly she hit the door, hoping it was loud enough for someone to hear. Somebody had to be home.

John Blythe opened the door to find Anne crying on his porch. He opened the door andhelped the sobbing muddy figure in. Soon Dr. Stewart was on his way to the Hammond's place to discover that Mr. Hammond was buried under mud and the rear axle of his truck. The family's happy home and future were buried later that week along with Mr. Hammond's body.


	4. Egg Shells

**Egg Shells**

The next few weeks were greeted by family and friends visiting, creating an onslot plethera of chocolate cake and goodies. Mrs. Hammond was cordial, but her heart was growing heavy with grief. The callers eventually dissapated as time passed, leaving the family alone in the sad house. Anne watched as Mrs. Hammond gradually sunk into the depths of despair. She no longer talked, sang, laughed, or even cried. It had been 2 weeks since her musical fingers had graced the white and black piano keys which usually brought her much solace. Life no longer possessed any joy for her since Mr. Hammond was taken from her. The children were unable to stir any reaction from their mother, leaving Anne alone in their rearing. Mrs. Hammond was only capable of sitting in her husband's old chair grasping the flag that had been draped over his coffin and gazing out the large front window in the living room.

Today was no different. The fading summer sunshine gleamed through the freshly cleaned glass, playing with the new silver streaks starting to show in Mrs. Hammond's hair as she stared into the distant horizon from her perch. Birdie and Gusty sat at her feet, each one clinging to a stockinged leg trying to console their mother. Pain and fear were etched into their little eyes as they longed for their mother's affection and reassurance. Anne was at a loss of words or ideas. She didn't know how to approach Mrs. Hammond or deal with the questions the children hurled at her about their father. _If only I knew how to help them,_ thought Anne to herself.

The way the house was situated, Anne was able to look in on the girls and their mother while she worked in the kitchen. She was busy tending to young Donald and Douglas in the kitchen. They were sitting at the table, tied in their chairs with two old dish towels to keep them seated still, running their fingers through the cool flour that remained on the table top from the noodles she had rolled and dried for dinner. The boys were completely engrossed in the simple activity, but it bought Anne more time to make dinner. She had made a simple broth using an onion and water, accompanied by a pinch or two of salt and a few shakes of pepper. Rolling bubbles in the pan let Anne know her broth was ready to add the noodles. Methodically, she added the dough, cut into strips, into the pan and covered it. Coos and giggles of joy turned her attention to the boys and a smile spread across her sullen face. Flour decorated the wee ones and they now resembled little white goblins playing in the kitchen.

Grabbing her dish rag, she began the process of wiping down the young ones and clearing the table for dinner. Anne's mind was beginning to ponder what she would feed the family tomorrow. There were only a few cans of vegetables and stew meat left in the pantry. A handful of dried beans and a small chunk of salt pork added a little variety to the dwindling supplies. Anne still had onions and a few potato plants remaining in the garden, but she was starting to worry about the oncoming winter. The chickens would be their only salvation. They could eat or sell the eggs, and if needed, she could butcher a chicken for dinner. _If only Mrs. Hammond would help me, then I know things would be alright._

Hissing from the pot boiling over pulled Anne's mind from pondering meaningless "what ifs". She grabbed an old towel and folded it several times, and used it as a pot holder. Maneuvering the hot vessel from the stove onto the table was a task in itself, because she had to avoid the sweet flesh of the babies. Anne glanced over at Mrs. Hammond and noticed that the girls had left their vigil posts.

"Girls! Dinner!" yelled Anne above the clanking soup bowls as she set them on the table.

"Girls?"

Silence greeted her. _They had to be up to something, somewhere_. Anne peeked out the kitchen window and searched the back yard for any sign of them. Her blue eyes scanned the forlorn landscape. A windbreak of maple and cotton woods lined the yard from the fields, adding a colored patch of green to the dreary spot. The girls enjoyed playing under the trees, but there was no sign of them. Anne's eyes followed the intermittent patches of green and yellow grasses that used to be considered a lawn. Movement from the chicken coop caught her attention. Wings and feathers were fluttering about inside the fence. Blood rushed to Anne's face and neck as she processed where the young girls had to be.

In an instant, Anne was out the door with a boy on each hip. Anger flared up Anne's spine as she rushed to the chicken coop. Frantic squawks from the helpless chickens filled the still air. _I swear I can hear those girls laughing while the poor chickens are fleeing for their life_. Anne put the clinging boys on the ground and opened the latch that held the gate shut. Her stressed fingers fumbled around and finally allowed her to enter the chaos. A large brown setter, the best one in the brood, limped around clucking and flapping her wings. Anne feared that the hen had broken her leg in all the commotion, but decided to worry about that later. Right now, two young girls were up to mischief and she feared what she would find inside the coop. She cautiously stepped into the small outbuilding and let her eyes adjust to the diminished light.

Birdie and Gusty were pulling out the hay the hens used as nests and tossing about the eggs they found in their conquest. Egg shells and yolks were mixed on the floor and walls with hay and dirt. The young lasses were throwing away their food and money. Pure hate trickled up Anne's spine and used all her pent up emotions to unleash a tyriade on the surprised children. Words spewed out of her mouth onto the little scape goats who had triggered Anne's wrath. Colorful words that Anne shouldn't even know flooded out of her and tears accompanied them as Anne ranted and kicked the hay on the coop's floor about.

_Those silly girls! How dare they jeopardize the whole family's well being on a little folly in the coop! Our best layer looks lame and will have to be eaten. The other hens will be so scared they probably won't lay eggs for a few days. Do they realize what they just did? Do they care? Nobody cares about us anymore, NOBODY! The Hammonds are no more. I am the only one keeping this place running and I can't even do that right!_ More cruel thoughts ran about her head as her tantrum continued on.

Finally, Anne looked into the sorrowful eyes of Birdie and Gusty. Regret took the place of her frustrations and soon Anne was on her knees huddling the scared girls tightly to her body. Sobs of grief and pain racked the small children's and her body. It felt good to release all the tension and fears building up, sadness compacted them causing her to crack like the eggs under a small jostling.

**Signals**

The release of Anne's emotions the night before helped her sleep soundly for the first time in weeks. She had regained a sense of serenity and the belief that God would make everything allright was fresh in her mind. Clouds hung in the sky, but she didn't let them dampen her spirits. She would take care of everything, somehow. With that resignation, she got ready for the day.

Anne picked out a simple white cotton dress printed with cherries. It buttoned up the front and down to her waist. She cinched it tight with a belt of yarn and slipped on her ankle socks. Her hair hung in two braids down her back as she held her head high and made her way to the kitchen. She would stoke the stove and then tend to her chores before the little ones awoke. Tenderly, she checked in on Mrs. Hammond.

Mrs. Hammond was still sitting in the chair in the living room, unfaltering in her grief. Dark circles hung under the anchored eyes that just stared out the window watching and waiting for Mr. Hammond's return to her. Vases of dried flowers still sat about in the bleak living room cluttering the shelves and a top of the silent radio. Anne longed to clean the flowers up and throw away the stagnate water left behind filling the bottoms of the vases. The flowers had cheered Mrs. Hammond up earlier, so there they sat. Anne was hoping that eventually Mrs. Hammond would come around, but it was becoming evident that she may never recover.

_Did Mrs. Hammond blame herself for his death? Did she love him so strongly that she couldn't survive without him? _These kind of thoughts tormented Anne as she worked in the barn milking the cows. Luckily, Mr. Hammond had shown her how to milk cows, even against Mrs. Hammond's urging that it was unlady like. Mr. Hammond had been like a father to her and Mrs. Hammond had been her mother. She had never known such kindness and acceptance before. The warm milk sprayed out of Bluebell's utters, splattering against the cool metal bucket. It was comforting to sit and do a task that Anne knew was going to do some good for her and the children. _Maybe I could make ice cream with the extra cream tonight? I think we have enough sugar and extra ice in the ice box. Ice cream sounds so delicious. Mrs. Hammond might even be tempted to eat some of the sweet treat._

The crowing roosters welcomed Anne as she carried the bucket of milk to the back of the house. She covered the bucket with a cheese cloth and grabbed another bucket that held scraps from yesterday's meals and forged her way inside the hen house. With great efficiency, Anne added two scoops of the dwindling chicken feed to the scraps and tossed them around the chicken yard for the birds to eat. She didn't know what she would do if they ran out of feed. She couldn't get to town and even is she did get there she had no money. _I will worry about that tomorrow_, thought Anne as she gathered the eggs from under the reconstructed nests. Her best layer was still hobbling about, but Anne decided to give her one more day before deciding her fate.

"Anne!" screamed Gusty as she waved wildly behind the screened window of her room.

Anne peered up and waved at the girl. Skipping, she made her way back to the house and entered the kitchen to greet the hungry children. Today they would eat eggs and the last of the bread. The cast iron skillet heated up and the slabs of butter melted, allowing Anne to crack the white oval containers and drop their insides on the bottom of the pan. Popping and sizzling egg whites comforted Anne as she dutifuly watched them cook on the stove. The children sat around the table in their nightgowns anxiously awaiting their breakfasts. All was right with the world for the moment.

By early afternoon, the clouds outside had grown darker and lowered over the horizon. Darkness closed in on the small family, making Anne contemplate turning on the electric lights. The air was eerily still, not even the birds were singing or fluttering about. Anne knew what this could mean and began opening windows in the house in case a twister did blow up. Cleverly, she manipulated the children into putting an old puzzle together on the kitchen floor while she tended to the animals outside. Thunder was rumbling in the distance and lightning zagged across the turning sky. Anne prayed that it would only rain and the impending storm would hit somewhere else far away from her and the Hammonds. The cows were very upset and wouldn't calm down as Anne put them in their stalls. The sow sniffed the air in her pen, like she was searching for clues among nonexistent wind. A strong cold breeze blew past Anne and lifted her skirt up as she slammed the barn door shut. The chickens would have to be smart enough to get out of the elements and bunker down in their coop. Anne ran back into the house to watch the children and the weather.

Sprinkles of rain began hitting the windows and ground as Anne entered the kitchen. The children looked up from their work and showed Anne how they had put the puzzle together. They had the right idea, but the pieces were crammed into any opening creating a collage of mismatched pictures. Anne laughed heartily at their efforts and sat down to demonstrate how the puzzle should be put together. Rain lashed against the house and thunder shook the glass windows. Minutes later, the clouds had rushed past the farm and a rainbow gleamed against the dark clouds racing onward.

Sighing with relief, Anne put the young children down for their naps. Mrs. Hammond stirred in her seat as Anne came back down the stairs. Anne stopped in her tracks and examined the lady. She was finally resting and getting some sleep. Anne went about her afternoon chores of dusting and doing the dishes. The sun beat down on the little house in full August glory, warming up the house and reminding Anne that it was still summertime.

With all her work done for the moment, she grabbed a small novel of Mrs. Hammonds and snuck into the living room and seated herself on the couch. It had been a few days since Anne was able to steal a moment for herself, let alone read. Her hands ran over the smooth red case and caressed the bind. Twisting her wrist, she flicked open the book and began reading a poem about the Highway man. She was so caught up in the drama that she didn't notice Mrs. Hammond turn her head and look at Anne.

"Anne, you look so beautiful there reading. Peaceful," stated Mrs. Hammond out of the blue.

Anne stared at the woman almost in shock. _She actually talked! Today is a turning point for all of us._

"Where are my darlings?" questioned the forlorn mother who was appearing to be on the mend.

"They are ... upstairs... napping," gawked Anne, still not believing her eyes or ears.

"I will have to see them and give them kisses as soon as they wake," said the woman as tears began to well up in her eyes.

"He's not going to come back to me," whispered Mrs. Hammond.

A few moments later, Mrs. Hammond looked at Anne and complemented, "Anne, you have taken great care of my family. You are truly ablessing. I know I can trust you with them."

They sat in silence and looked out the window together. The children broke the mesmerized spell that took over the women. Mrs. Hammond's lips parted into a forgotten smile at the sight of her daughters and sons, it was the first time in weeks since anybody had seen her smile. The children ran into the arms of their mother and eagerly accepted her sweet kisses.

Swiftly, the beaming mother stood and announced, "I feel so much better today. I think I will go outside for some fresh air and to stretch my legs."

And with that, she was out the door. Anne was so relieved that Mrs. Hammond was up and about, so she decided that she would start the ice cream for desert now and the children could play outside while she cranked the freezer. Soon the family was outside enjoying the release of tension Mrs. Hammond's smile had brought.

Birdie and Gusty sat among the lilac bushes playing in the little shade it offered. Enthralled, they sat and built fairy houses out of sticks and twigs. Anne had shown them how to bend and weave them last week and now the girls had mastered the art. Scraps of fabric, ribbons, aluminum, and other shiny objects that could be found were included to entice the fairies to their new residence. Anne had given the girls a small bowl to use as a bathtub for the fairies and at night, she would sneak out and put a little dirt in the water to give the illusion that someone had bathed in it. One night, Anne went as far to sprinkle salt among the structure so the girls would see real fairy dust. It kept the girls busy and out of her hair.

Donald and Douglas sat in the dirt by the back door and played in the wet sand. _It must feel cool on their fingers and toes._ Anne's arms were growing tired, but the effort was definetly worth the reward of cold ice cream. Especially on a day like this. She stopped and shook her tingling arm. The cow in the barn was bellowing loudly, but it wasn't milking time. Something must be wrong. Anne stood up and shielded her eyes from the glaring sun. Smoke was coming from the barn!

Anne grabbed the children and penned them inside the chicken coop's fencing. Atleast she wouldn't have to worry about them getting under foot or wandering off. She latched the gate and ran using long strides toward the barn. Smoke already filled the barn by the time Anne had unlatched the heavy doors. She reached her arms out and patted her way around searching for an old horse blanket or something. The coarse weaved wool finally met her fingertips and she grabbed the blanket. Smoke began sifting out the doors, allowing Anne to see the general area the smoke was coming from.

Anne coughed and stumbled her way toward the back of the barn. As she went, she opened the gates on the livestock's pens giving them the chance to run. Swirls of dark gray smoke danced about her, but she didn't give up. The family needed the barn for the animals. Anne kicked an empty bottle of kerosene laying on the floor. _Strange, that was not there before._ Screams of agony came from the far East corner and the smoke finally spread out enough allowing Anne to see Mrs. Hammond writhing on the floor covered in flames.

Anne forced her sore arms to lift the thick blanket and try to smother the flames engulfing Mrs. Hammond's body. Smoke billowed out of the barn and high into the sky. The beating of the blanket and rolling of Mrs. Hammond made the gray haze look like smoke signals beaconing help to the neighbors. Anne didn't stop until Mrs. Hammond's dress was smoldering from the extinguished flames. Mrs. Hammond looked up and glowered at Anne with her blistered face.

"How could you? How could you? I was on my way to meet him! How could you let me live?" yelled Mrs. Hammond.

Anne sat on her knees just staring at the distraught woman. She didn't know what to do or say. The distant sounds of the crying children or crunching gravel under a car's wheels didn't even arouse Anne. Finally, a firm hand grabbed her shoulder and helped her stand. A kind elderly gentleman led her back into the house.

"My sister and I were passing by to go visit the Blythe's when we saw the smoke. I am sure more neighbors are on their way. I am Matthew Cuthbert," spoke the gentleman softly to Anne.

"Why? Why did Mrs. Hammond do this?" cried Anne into the man's shoulder.

"You did right by helping the Mrs. out. Don't let her words make you think otherwise," wisely comforted Matthew to Anne.

He opened the kitchen door and let her into the house. The children were seated around the table enjoying the half frozen ice cream Anne had been making. An older lady sat at the table talking with the girls and mopping up the spills the boys made down their chins.

"Marilla, this is Anne. She was in the barn," stated Matthew, trying not to waste any extra words.

"Hello, Anne, I didn't see any sense in letting good ice cream go to waste. Have a seat and dry your tears. We will take care of things for the moment. Would you like a bowl?" asked the lady.

Anne shook her head no. _How could I eat after seeing that?_ It didn't matter to Marilla that Anne didn't want any.

The lady stood tall and began maneuvering around the kitchen. Her graying dark hair was twisted tightly into a bun and she wore old circle spectacles. Her dress was a sensible brownand iteven matched her shoes. She was the perfect image for a spinster if Anne had ever seen one.


	5. Home Is Where You Hang Your Heart

**Home is Where You Hang Your Heart**

Anne sat at the table and helped Marilla Cuthbert peel potatoes for supper. The dark skins curled in a pile on the table slowly creating a growing mound for the compost heap in the garden. It had been a week since Anne had came to live with Marilla and her brother, Matthew. Mrs. Hammond's kin from Wisner took her and the children in, but they couldn't keep Anne. Things were already tight and the burden of four more children and one woman were really pushing the family's limits. Anne's mind understood the reasoning, but her heart ached. Mrs. Hammond was basically her mother and the children were her siblings. Marilla and Matthew had decided last week to take Anne in on that fateful day when it became clear what Mrs. Hammond had conspired.

Anne didn't know what to do with herself during the long lonely days. There were no children to tend or a tremendous amount of laundry to scrub. Matthew had given Anne a few chores around the farm, but collecting eggs and feeding the pigs weren't extremely time consuming. She often found herself wandering around, walking in tree groves or chasing kittens. It was a rather lovely farm compared to most now days.

They had a lovely white house with two gables. The trim and porch were painted green. Anne mused that it probably was the only house in the county with the paint still on it. Marilla had planted beautiful flowers around the edge of the house, but drying green stems were the only remnants for now. Several large Maple trees, whose leaveswere now beginning to turn yellow, had been planted to shade the house and chicken coop. Thegolden carpet of fallen leaves covered the large vegetable garden and yard. It truly was a special hamlet to live.

"Anne please watch your fingers with that paring knife," said Marilla and then teased, "I don't want any blood in with the potatoes."

"Sorry Marilla," sighed Anne.

She had been caught up in her thoughts again. She counted the peeled potatoes and tried to figure out how many more she needed. Marilla told her the rule of thumb was to plan on two potatoes per person, then add a few more to the pot if you were going to mash them. Anne marveled at all the "rules" Marilla knew. There seemed to be a rule for everything here. Laughter rose from her throat and broke the silence in the kitchen.

"Is there something you find amusing, dear?", questioned a concerned Marilla who was rolling out the biscuit dough with a floured pin.

"I ... I was just thinking about the rule not to wear white shoesafter Labor Day," sheepishly replied Anne.

"It's just a guide which you have to obey or else Rachel Lynde and the ladies at church might talk. I had never thought of it as funny, Anne," smiled Marilla as she used a glass dipped in flour to cut the biscuits from the thick dough.

"Neither had I, until I imagined President Roosevelt signing the law in his oval office," giggled Anne.

"The history books would definetly highlight that moment and its importance to our great nation," laughed Marilla.

The two ladies enjoyed the crazy notion and shared their laughter. Marilla secretly appreciated Anne's company. There hadn't been laughter at this farm in years. It was a nice departure from the quiet that used to surrounded her. It had to have been providence that brought Anne to this farm, and to think that she was born just a mile or two down the road.

"Oh, Anne, I forgot to tell Matthew about dinner. Could you please go find him?", asked Marilla.

"Yes m'am," replied Anne. "Do you want me to put the potatoes in a pan of water first?"

"That will be great, but hurry. It takes a few minutes to walk down to the pasture."

Anne nodded and quickly rinsed the potatoes. The clinking of the raw wedges echoed in the metal pan as she dumped them into the metal tub. Effortlessly, she poured just enough cold water in the panto cover the tops of the potatoes and added a pinch of salt. She sat the pan down on the counter and grabbed her coat hanging near the back door. The creaking of the doors announced Anne's presence outside and into the crisp autumn air.

Anne shuffled and kicked her feet through the yellow leaves creating a small trail following her. The wet leaves left their imprints on the small sidewalk leading to the lane. Anne admired the perfect dark gray outlines adorning the walk. She felt good to be outside, breathing the cool air in her lungs and her eyes marveling in the Autumn's glory.

A few clouds sifted across the sky in tiny rows, promising fair weather. She walked under the old curved arbor covered in a red vine of leaves. Anne couldn't wait for Spring, she would finally be able to see what amazing flowers and plants Marilla grew. All she had right now was her imagination.

The gravel from the lane crunched under her feet as she made her way to the back of the barn. An old red "putt putt" tractor, as Birdie always called them, sat in a patch of weeds near the wood pile. Several barrels full of oil or gas sat a few yards away in a small grove of trees used to shield the yard from the fierce prairie winds known to chase across the land. Anne grabbed a long wavy stick from off the ground and rapped it against the red wall of the barn as she mosied her way to the barbed wire fence that framed the North pasture. She hoisted her skirt up and stepped on the bottom wire of the fence making sure she placed her foot between the small barbs. Using little effort, Anne squeezed through the opening, ducking her head down low so her hair wouldn't get tangled in the poky spurs.

Hills of dry brown grass greeted her on the other side. Anne could hear the few head of cattle mooing nearby. Hopefully, Matthew wasn't too far away. She skipped through the tall grasses, trying to keep them from scratching her exposed knees, toward the sounds. After a few yards, she stopped bluntly and looked down on an old empty farmhouse. It was a house that someone had once called home. The peeled paint and caved in roof let her know that it had been vacant for many years. Anne was drawn to the dying house, it seemed to call out to her.

"Anne?" said Matthew as he crested the hilltop.

"Oh! Matthew, Marilla has sent me to fetch you," rushed Anne while she gazed down at the sad house.

"Tell her I will be along in a few," said Matthew as he tsked at one of the older calves.

"Yes sir," answered a distant Anne.

"Is everything okay?" asked a concerned Matthew who was trying to read the young lady's facial expressions.

"I am just heart broken about that lonely old house," stated a melancholic Anne, "What happened there?"

Matthew, an elderly bachelor, was unsure of how to answer the girl. She was so vivid with her thoughts and speech, while he would rather nod or sit back and listen. He didn't want to scar her with the real story of the Shirley's- her story.

"That was once home to a couple and their new baby. It is a rather sad story," said Matthew toward Anne, "It has been vacant for about 15 or 16 years now."

"I hope it was a happy home, Matthew. One full of love and laughter. A truly wonderful home."

"Anne, home is where you hang your heart," stated Matthew, unsure of what to say to the dreamer before him.

The faint ringing of the dinner bell saved him from further comments. He would tell Anne someday, but now was not the right time. She had been through enough already with the Hammonds. The pair made their way back over the hills and inside for dinner.

**A Bird in the Grass**

That night Anne sat in her bed looking at the full harvest moon shining outside of her second story window. The first time she saw the reddish orange moon it frightened her as a young girl. She was sure it was a sign from God warning of the Apocolypse to come, now she knew it was only just a phase the moon went through around harvest. Anne hoped that Marilla and Matthew were not just a phase. She was really starting to like it here and Marilla had decided Anne could start school next week.

Anne had never been to a real school before. Mrs. Hammond had taught her during the children's naps at home when there was time. Anne was worried and excited at the same time. She knew several of the girls and boys that were her age from church, but she had never really formed friendships or talked with any of them- except Gilbert. Gilbert looked a few years older than she was, he probably was finished with school or decided to stay home with his father. Anne's stomach rolled in anticipation of the prospect of school as she laid down on her bed and rolled on to her side. Her eyes slowly fluttered shut allowing her to drift to sleep.

The next few days whisked by as she helped the Cuthberts with the butchering of a pig and two cows for the winter. A butcher came out to each farm in the fall and helped the farmers with the gruesome task. He had a truck full of saws and pulleys. Anne hated butchering time, but it had to be done if they were going to make it through the winter. She stayed away for the first part when the butcher would either hit the cow on the head with a mallet or slit it's throat with his knife. It was too much sadness for her to handle, she would help Marilla inside making sausage and canning the meat for stews and soup. Matthew would smoke the rest of the meat or salt it to keep it good for the winter. Atleast she was being kept busy keeping her mind off of starting school.

Monday finally arrived cloaked in a heavy fog. Anne rushed through her breakfast of oatmeal and molasses while Marilla weaved her hair in two long braids down her back. She wore the special white dress Mrs. Hammond had made for her and a pair of new boots that the Cuthberts had given her. Matthew was going to give her a ride two miles to the school house on his way to town, but she would have to walk on her own any other time.

Matthew honked the horn out in his truck. Anne put her bowl in the sink and grabbed her coat and lunch pail. Marilla stood at the sink waving through the window out at the man and child. Anne waved back and hopped into the old black truck.

The two rode in silence all the way to the school. Anne didn't know what to say, she was so nervous. It was not like her to be so quiet and reserved. Matthew focused on the haze in front of him as they pulled next to the one room red school house. A small tire swing hung from an old tree that was a neighbor with a teeter totter. A small outhouse was hidden in the back surrounded by small shrubs. This was her school, District 21.

A small group of children huddled near each other on the front steps waiting for class to begin. A few boys were battling their wooden spin tops on the ground. Every now and then a loud cheer would erupt from them as a top lay in defeat. Anne quietly walked up to the school unnoticed and leaned against the wooden door.

Voices coming from the West side of the school caught Anne's attention. The older boys were discussing current events and the recent German invasion of Poland. They casually were recounting news stories they had heard on the radio, but others were only repeating what they had overheard their father's saying. War was on their minds. Anne gulped hard, she hadn't heard any of this talk. The tragedy surrounding the Hammond's had consumed all her energy, so much so,that she was oblivious to the new turn of the world. A sense of fear and foreboding crept into her heart, she felt like a pheasant startled in the grass. She wished she could fly away and find somewhere safe to land until all the talk of danger had passed.

The bell rang and all the students rushed toward Anne. They stormed into the little school house and deposited their coats and lunch pails along the wall near the door. She stood amidst the chaos and looked for a friendly face. She recognised Diana Barry who was carefully hanging up her hat and coat. Diana smiled, her blue eyes gleamed against her perfect skin, and waved Anne over to her.

"Hi Anne. Marilla told me you were starting school today. You can hang your coat beside mine," kindly said Diana.

"Thank you. I wasn't sure what I should do," replied Anne.

"Don't worry, I will show you the ropes," laughed Diana.

"Girls!" yelled Miss Stacey at the dwadling twosome.

"Sorry, Miss Stacey," apologized Diana, "I was helping Anne."

"Alright class, we have a new student today. Anne Shirley. Would you please come forward and introduce yourself?" prodded Miss Stacey.

Anne enjoyed her first morning of school. Diana's tutelage made her feel welcome and relaxed, by the time lunch rolled around they were already good friends. With pails in tow, the two found a hidden spot in the tall grasses near the school yard. They stomped a small circle with their boots and sat concealed from the other students. Diana munched on her cheese sandwich and listened intently to Anne's tale of her time with the Hammond's.

**Sparrows**

Low dark clouds appeared on the horizon as Miss Stacey stood on the steps and rang her little brass bell to call the children inside. Gilbert stoicly held the door open for everyone as the clambered in. Distant rumbles of thunder were muted as the laughing children stomped into the classroom. Within seconds the classroom was quiet and each child had found their seat. Miss Stacey smiled kindly and pulled out an old worn book to read a loud. In a clear voice she began reading a chapter from The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame. The children were enraptured by the tale of Toad drving around wrecklessly in his automobile that nobody noticed the gentle rain falling outside. Rain twice in a month was reason to celebrate, hopefully all the dust would soon be gone.

Diana nudged Anne with her elbow and motioned with her head of dark braids towards the window sill. Sitting outside near the glass was a line of five or six puffed sparrows huddling together and sheltering under the eaves of the old school. Anne smiled and imagined the darling birds were listening to the story. A couple of older boys had also noticed the birds, but they had developed an offbeat idea in great contrast to Anne's silly notion. Gilbert joined in on the planning and whispered to a red headed boy everyone called Moody. Anne glanced their way, but soon forgot about their hushed voices focusing her attention on Miss Stacey's adventurous tale.

The afternoon slowly became brighter as the rain and fog burned away in the heat of the sun. Light edged it's way into the shadowy classroom, refreshing the dismal atmosphere. Anne had been carefully working over her sums, playing with equations trying to figure out what X could equal. She didn't realize that Gilbert had left the classroom earlier to "use the outhouse" or that her coat was missing.

The old clock on the wall finally showed the three o'clock hour and Miss Stacey clapped her hands to gain everybody's attention, "Children, It's time to go home. Please pick up your desks and get your coats on."

A hubbub of energetic activity exploded onto the quiet room. Children lined up in front of the door, dressed in their coats and carrying their pails, waiting for Miss Stacey to open the door and dismiss them for the day. Anne was besides herself looking for her missing coat. She had hung it next to Diana's just after lunch. Marilla would be furious if she lost her coat. Anne gave up her futile search and stood in line next to Diana. Atleast it was warmer now that the sun had came out from behind the clouds.

Miss Stacey opened the door and unknowingly released a flurry of wings and beaks into the classroom. Sparrows fluttered about, swooping and squawking, scaring the young children and girls. Screams of surprise and fear bellowed out of the classroom to a smiling Gilbert's awaiting ears. Moody and another boy, named Charlie, stood in the corner and laughed at the chaotic sight they had created.

One by one, the little children filed out leaving a handful of the older children to help Miss Stacey chase the poor creatures back out into the wild. Anne opened a side window and noticed Gilbert hiding around the corner of the school. He had her coat clutched in his grip and a huge smirk plastered on his devilish face. A free spirited laugh escaped from her throat when her mind put together the pieces of the puzzle.

Ten minutes late the last little bird flew out the front door of the school. Miss Stacey thanked all her helpers and waved them goodbye. Anne walked down the lane with Diana, they could walk a mile in the same direction before they needed to split. The smell of the fresh rain and warmth radiating from the sun made it a wonderful day for a walk. The girls turned from the school and followed the gravel road leading North.

"Hey Anne!" yelled Gilbert as he ran up behind them.

"Gilbert, Is something wrong?" asked Anne.

"You forgot your coat back at the school house," lied Gilbert in between deep breathes as he bent over, resting his hands upon his knees.

"I see I did," stressed a knowing Anne.

"Gil, Where were you when school let out?" questioned a concerned Diana.

"Oh Diana, you are probably better off not knowing what he and his feathered friends were up to during his absence," replied Anne.

"Gil, you didn't?" came from a baffled Diana.

"I am guilty," said a calmer Gil, "Moody, Charlie, and I got the idea right after lunch."

"How did you catch the unfortunate sparrows?" asked a suspicious Anne.

"I borrowed your coat when I went out back, I used it like a net and swooped up the wet birds and held the coat shut like a little sack. Then I released the birds inside the screen door and shut it quickly before they could fly away. All I had to do was wait for Miss Stacey to open the inside door and let them in," gloated Gilbert.

"You amaze me," said an impressed Diana.

Anne just looked at her coat, realizing that wet birds had been held hostage inside it. "Well Gil, Are you going to wash my coat so I don't get lice from your darling little friends?"

"Sure Anne, but I don't know the first thing about laundry," teased Gilbert as he turned back towards the school, "I have to get home to check on my father!"

Anne leaned close to Diana and they both shared a laugh as they meandered down the out stretched road ahead of them.


	6. Blooming

**Blooming**

Anne soon became accustomed to life with the Cuthberts. The last month had zipped past leaving her feeling comfortable and loved. She was enjoying being able to relax and enjoy the dwindling days of her childhood. It was the first time in her life where she wasn't responsible for other people's children. Anne now had a life that was completely her own where she had a say in her daily activities and choices in her future. She couldn't remember the last time she had found a true friend, now she had one in Diana. Laughter and smiles now occupied a permanent spot on Anne's formerly serious face. Blooming. That was what Mrs. Hammond would have called it. Anne was blooming into her own person and woman.

Overnight the had earth changed from a glorious Fall into a dormant Winter, surrounding Anne in a rapture of white. The cold air stung at her smooth face as she hiked through the drifts to school. Her smoky puffs of breath kept her attention focused on the hazy clouds escaping her mouth instead of the coldness chilling her body. Marilla had given Anne the choice to go to school this morning, but Anne couldn't bear the thought of not seeing Diana. She had so much to tell her about the weekend.

Anne could barely feel her legs when she crested the last hill before the school house. Smoke drifting from the chimney was a welcome sign to her frozen body. Atleast someone was there and she hadn't made the trek for nothing. She ran into the building and stripped off her snow packed boots and coat, then bee-lined to the old coal stove. Heat radiated from the iron and vents, warming her outstretched hands. Miss Stacey sat at the front desk patiently working on some embrodiery work. Gilbert was sprawled on the floor near the stove reading his History book preparing for a test later this afternoon. His back rested against the wall and he had one arm propped up on his knee while the other arm supported his book. Anne marveled at how comfortable he looked, her nerves where all tied up about the upcoming exam. Diana was nowhere to be seen, or anyone else for that matter and it was already 8:30 a.m., 15 minutes past the scheduled time for school to start.

Anne stood near the stove and gazed out a frosted window where 'Jack Frost' had been the night before. A paisely pattern of ice was etched across the window pane keeping Anne's attention as she marveled over the wonders of nature. Gilbert was having a hard time keeping his eyes focused onto the print in his book since Anne had came in the room. He kept reading the same sentence over and over again, each time he finished he couldn't remember what he had just read. It was so tempting for him to look up and gaze at her, especially when there was no one else around to distract his lusting mind. Today she looked so beautiful, her cheeks were rosy from the cold and her eyes twinkled blue that matched the cold sky. Her silky hair was neatly braided in two rows down the back of her head, but a few stray tendrils curled around her face and neck. She wore a pair of blue slacks, probably because of the deep snow, but it was the first time he had seen her in something beside a skirt. She looked so mature and ladylike, feelings of love started to stir in his young heart.

The crease in the fabric of the pant leg distracted his eyes, making them wander up to her belted waist. _She had a nice figure, slender yet curvacious, _thought Gilbert. She wore a white blouse and a deep blue wool sweater adorned with small embroderied roses around the collar_. Anne is definetly a rose_. _Red on the top, sweetly beautiful and purely innocent looking . . . and yet she is able to prick at the slightest mishandling._ A small chuckle escaped from his wandering mind as he darted his eyes back onto the page.

Anne peered down at Gilbert smiling and chuckling to his book. She couldn't imagine how he found the War of 1812 so fascinating, and she never could have fathomed his real enjoyment with her that morning. Her mind wasn't open to that possibility. In her blossoming mind love was only something for fated heroines and tragic heroes- not for her.

"Gilbert. Anne," said Miss Stacey as she placed her needlework down on her tidy desk.

"Yes," they replied in perfect unison.

"I have decided to call school off for the day. Will you two be able to make it back home on your own or do we need to call Mr. Lynde with the tractor?", asked Miss Stacey.

Gloom settled over Anne causing her eyes to darken. She wouldn't be able to see Diana or tell her any of the news about Thanksgiving. Gilbert saw the color of Anne's eyes change and immediately cleared his throat.

"Miss Stacey, I can take Anne to the Cuthberts. I brought Dad's old tractor to school today and it won't be too far out of my way," rushed Gilbert while he secretly hoped the prospect of riding home would bring the light back to Anne's eyes.

"Anne?", asked Miss Stacey.

"Yes m'am, I would be grateful to Gilbert if he didn't mind," muttered Anne. Atleast she wouldn't have to walk home again through the snow. A smile began to spread across her face.

"Okay! It's settled then," said Miss Stacey as she checked on the dwindling fire in the stove, "I am sorry you two had to go through so much trouble for nothing."

"That's alright. We didn't know and besides I got an extra day to study for the History test!", beamed Gilbert.

"Miss Stacey, do you need me to do anything for you before we leave?" asked Anne politely.

"No, all I have to do is shut the damper and make my way back to the Lynde's," smiled Miss Stacey.

"C'mon Anne, I want to make sure you get home in time for lunch," laughed Gilbert as he handed Anne her damp coat.

"Bye you two and be safe," came from behind the coat closet as Miss Stacey put on her things.

Anne took her coat and quickly buttoned up the black buttons. She reluctantly slid on her wet gloves, but debated if it would be warmer without them. Her hat came last, but thankfully it was dry. She turned and waved goodbye at Miss Stacey as she walked out the front door.

Waiting for Anne was Gilbert sitting patiently on the idling old gray tractor. Anne marveled at how grown-up he looked perched up so high. He wore a dark hat that was lined with rabbit fur on the inside. The only reason Anne knew this was because he had his ear flaps turned up and the soft fur poked out above his ears. The chestnut brown fur matched the color of Gilbert's eyes. _He really was handsome- those eyes and his strong chin._ Gilbert pushed the throttle up on the tractor and made the engine rev. Smoke flooded from the smoke stack at the front, breaking Anne's line of thinking.

Anne shuffled closer to him and the large metal contraption. She had never rode on a tractor before. Fear began to well up inside her and suddenly the possibility of pushing through the deep drifts didn't seem like such a bad idea. Gilbert saw the hesitation in her eyes and quickly reached his arm down to help her up. He grabbed her small hand and pulled her up close to him. He held her there for a quick second, taking in her scent and warmth. Anne leaned into him, gracious for his support.

"Here you go," reassured Gilbert as she gained her composure.

Anne could only nod back. Silence had finally found Anne. She was not one to ever be short of any words or ideas, but now there were none to be found floating in her brain.

She maneuvered her hips and legs, allowing her to sit on the large metal cover over the back wheels. She had seen Mrs. Hammond ride with Mr. Hammond like this during planting and haying season, it had looked so easy then. Her bottom kept sliding down the slick rounded metal, out of necessity she put her arm on Gilbert's shoulder to brace herself from falling off. In an instant, the two were putting their way down the road and toward the Cuthbert's residence.

The rattling of the heavy chains on the tires and loud sputtering engine made it nearly impossible for the pair to talk, but Anne felt more comfortable that way. Suddenly, she had became aware of Gilbert's manliness leaving her quivering in the revelation. She bumped along with him, watching his muscular neck sway with the motion of the tractor.

He secretly longed for another hill or quarter section between them and her home. The cold air was no match for the warmth Anne's hand against his back was creating in his body. He just wanted her to wrap her arms around him and lean on him, allowing the heat from her body to course against his. Steering the tractor through the drifts was tiring his arms out, but it kept his mind on the task of getting her safely home and his mind out of the gutter.

Soon the Green Gables from the Cuthbert's could be seen and they turned into the farmyard. Marilla greeted the tractor as it sputtered to a stop. A suspicious and concerned look took the surprise off of her wrinkled face.

"Anne? What are you doing back so soon?" asked Marilla as she studied Gilbert.

"Miss Stacey decided to call off school, Marilla," slowly said Anne as she climbed down the tractor's edge.

On firm ground, she looked up to Gilbert and then at Marilla, "Marilla Cuthbert this is Gilbert Blythe, he graciously gave me a ride home."

Gilbert nodded and took his hat off, revealing a disheveled mess of dark hair, "Glad to meet you m'am."

"Likewise," Marilla said short and matter of fact.

"Thank you Gilbert," Anne sweetly said as she looked up at him.

"No problem, Anne. I was glad I could help," sheepishly grinned Gilbert. _I would love to give her a kiss on those red lips._

Marilla stood at the door and leaned back, "Anne, Why don't you invite Gilbert in for some coffee and give him a chance to warm up a bit."

"Well?" questioned Anne.

"Alright," said Gilbert as he made his way off the tractor and down beside his Anne. He liked the sound of that. _His Anne._

Anne smiled and waved him over toward the barn, "There is something I want to show you before we go inside. It was a surprise for Marilla and Diana. I was going to give them one for Thanksgiving."

The milk cows were mooing in protest of their intrusion, but soon they forgot their woes. Gilbert followed Anne into the barn and quickly followed her up the rickety wooden ladder into the hay loft. Dry dust particles floated in the air as they crawled over the hay and to a dark corner.

"Look Gilbert!" exclaimed Anne proudly as she pointed to a mass of three small black and white furry mounds snuggled together.

A huge grin crept across his face at her boasting when he realized what she was displaying so proudly.

"I found these poor kittens in the ditch along the road. I have been feeding them with a bottle that Matthew had laying around for when they had farm cats. Don't you think Diana will just love one?"

"I don't really know, Anne," hesitated Gilbert.

"Why not? Who couldn't love one of these sweet innocent babies?" cooed Anne as she cuddled the soft furball next to her chest.

"Anne?. . . Did you look really close at those kittens?" slowly asked Gilbert, fearing the rath that was to follow.

"Of course I did! There are two toms and a little girl."

"No, Anne. I mean did you look at their markings or face?"

"Yes, aren't they the cutest little black and white kittens anyone could have ever found?"

"They are cute, but they ain't kittens!" stated Gilbert with a little laugh escaping.

"What else could they be?" naievely questioned Anne with a shake of her head.

"Skunks!" laughed Gilbert as he slapped his hands down on his knees in triumph.

Red flushed across Anne's ivory skin and her temper flared. _I should know the difference between a skunk and a cat. What would Marilla and Matthew say when they found out I brought a whole family of skunks to the farm and inside the barn no less! Poor Diana, that was going to be her surprise. I was going to give them to Marilla and Diana when I had them weaned onto solid food. What a fool I am? Now Gilbert knows how silly I can be!_

Anne looked up at Gilbert causing him to stop laughing. The anger in her face was apparent and he knew she would not enjoy being laughed at. _How would I get her to trust me again, if I laugh at her now?_

"Don't worry, Anne," reassured Gilbert as he took the little creature from her grasp. "They were born to late and that is probably why the mother abandoned them. They wouldn't have survived anyway. I can take them home and drown them for you. Nobody will be any the wiser."

Anne's eyes flashed at him when he mentioned drowning the sweet babies. _How dare he?_ Then reality hit her hard. Skunks were pests. They killed chickens and spread rabies, beside the smell issue. Anne knew she couldn't keep them and reluctantly she nodded in aggreance with Gilbert.

"You can take them, but please do it quickly so they don't suffer," whimpered Anne as she left the sleeping skunks and led Gilbert back down the loft.

Gilbert didn't say anything, but simply followed her slumped shoulders into the house. Inside, it was warm and the smell of rising bread greeted them. Marilla properly took his hat and coat. He would have a nice visit, even after he had shattered Anne's surprise. He wasbudding inside, kindness and love were overflowing his heart. He was becoming a man and Anne was helping him realize that fact.


	7. Snuffed

**Snuffed**

Winter had settled over the Nebraska landscape, leaving the plain covered in a sheet of white. Anne longed for the warm breezes of Spring to arrive and herald the greening of the Earth, but Winter hadn't even technically began. The short days and long nights were less than comforting to Anne. The cold and darkness crept into her soul, reminding her of the past despair and heartache she had suffered in her life. Her birthday had fast approached and brought presents with that were memories of faceless parents and what if's to plague her imagination.

Anne hoped that the Cuthberts wouldn't realize her birthday was the 4th, today. December was always busy and what were the chances that Marilla would remember such an insignificant day. _Afterall, it was just another Tuesday on the calendar,_ thought Anne to herself as she scrubbed the wooden floor in the kitchen. _Birthdays are really for the children, not for me. Anyways, I wouldn't know what to wish for when I would blow out the candles on my cake,_ reasoned Anne.

"Anne!" exclaimed Marilla as she came into the kitchen, "You are such a dear child for cleaning the floors without my prompting."

"I thought it would be nice for you to take the afternoon off, Marilla," lied Anne as she plunged her rag back into the metal bucket of sudsy water.

She didn't want Marilla to see what a mess she had made in the previously tidy kitchen. The fiasco had begun while she tried to make Matthew some cream puffs for his coffee break later that afternoon. Anne knew Marilla would be furious if she saw the splattered batter wasted on the floor and cupboards after she had accidentally dropped the bowl on the floor. She now had a mess and nothing special to serve sweet Matthew. Anne sat her rump on the floor and gazed out the window past Marilla. Large snowflakes floated in the gray sky coating the already frozen terrain.

"Anne, I think we are in for another storm. I suppose you should fetch some extra wood and corn cobs for the stoves. We wouldn't want to freeze or starve now, would we?" politely ordered Marilla as she put on her faded pink apron and tied a large bow in the back.

Anne nodded her head and took the dirty water and rags to the back door. Thankfully, most of the cleaning was finished and Marilla wasn't any the wiser. Slipping her feet into a pair of black rubber boots, she managed to push her arms into the tattered gray coat she wore around the place for chores. Anne shivered when she looked outside at the snow falling, gradually getting heavier and heavier. It would be beautiful if she were someone else, but for some reason snow had been associated with death in her mind since she was a child . With a loud humph, she grabbed her blue scarf, wrapped it around her ears and braided hair, and shoved open the door. The Arctic air rushed around her, making her teeth chatter and her hands shake as she stuffed them into a pair of knitted gloves that matched her scarf. The cows were in the barn and Matthew had talked about shodding the horses' feet this afternoon. Anne would look there first before bringing in the fuel for Marilla.

Cold snow sifted its way over the tops of her boots and down around her ankles as she shuffled through the glittering crystals toward the barn. Lumps and mounds of white now stood where equipment, flowers, and buckets had once been. It was amazing to Anne how one form of weather could completely transform the only world a person knows into something foreign and new. _Snow must possess a magical power to tranquilize the world- making everything appear silent and somber_.

The heavy door of the barn dragged against the snow, but Anne managed to squeeze inside the cozy shelter. Aromas of animals and hay filled the dimly lit room. Matthew stood next to the bay horse that was his pride. The elderly man ran his aged and rough hands over the mares brushed hairs. He seemed at peace with the world and himself, Anne secretly longed for an acceptance of herself like Matthew had. He had little to say, but when he did speak only true and reflected wisdom greeted the recipient. She was always one for rambling on and on, saying what came to her mind. Anne was known for her tongue, but she really just wanted to be understood and loved. Matthew knew.

A shrill whinny of the horse announced Anne's arrival into the barn. Matthew looked up at the girl and she swore tears were in his eyes. Anne dreamed that he was pining for a great lost love. She had no concept in her red head that he was deliberating about telling her a tale of love and how it was snuffed out by death.

Anne walked next to Matthew and patted his shoulder with her gloved hand. She didn't feel the urge to talk continuosly around him. He was a great comfort to her, a kindred spirit. Anne stood next to him, almost matching his slumped height, and looked at the horse. A quiet bubble of space surrounded the patriarchial couple, leaving unspoken thoughts to fill the void.

Finally, Matthew broke the tension, "Anne, I have something I need to give you. I was going to save it for Christmas, but seeing that it is your birthday and all, I thought you could get it now."

Matthew dug a small folded handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Anne. His hands shook as she gently took the present from him. Anne stuffed her gloves into her pockets and rolled the soft cotton fabric over in her hands, trying to guess what lay wrapped inside. Her fingers gently opened the edges to display an old skeleton key. At first, she just looked at it and then slowly ran her finger along the cool black iron. She picked up the relic and noticed a delicate, shiny, gold chain looped through the eye. Matthew gently took the necklace and undid the clasp to help her put it on. Anne turned around and lifted her hair while he fidgeted with the chain. A jingle later, the key hung around her neck and a smile crept across her face.

"Matthew, I don't really know what to say," hesitated a surprised Anne, "It's amazing. Did you make it yourself?"

Matthew nodded and then proceeded, "It's not much, but Anne, that key should always hang near your heart. It was from the place you were born."

A look of shock replace the surprise in Anne's eyes. _What could Matthew know? _Anne stood silent and listened to the man stutter.

"Anne... I knew your parents... I mean... they lived down the road... you know the place you called sad... the key goes to that house... you were born there... ," explained Matthew.

"This is the key to the house where I was born?" questioned Anne as she flipped the key carefully through her fingers.

"Yes child. Your parents gave me that key to look in on the place when they would go to visit family or take a trip to Lincoln. I have held onto it all these years," Matthew said to his shoes because he couldn't look into Anne's teary eyes.

"Oh Matthew!" exclaimed Anne as she ran to the gentleman and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "This is the best present I have ever received. Thank you."

"I'm glad you like it. Marilla would have told me it was in bad taste to give someone an old dingy key. I did buy a gold chain for it," whispered Matthew into Anne's ear as he relished the loving embrace.

Anne stepped back and gazed into his wise and thoughtful eyes, "Would you tell me about my parents?"

"Sure maybe later, but not today. Today is your day," smiled Matthew.

Anne gazed down at her present. It wasn't a beautiful diamond or even a ruby, but to her it was worth more than any precious stone. She finally had a connection to her past and someone who could help her learn about it. She clasped the key and thanked Matthew again. He nodded silently and went back to brushing the horse's coat. Anne took her cue and gathered an armful of corn cobs from the bin in the corner. Marilla was sure to be wondering what she was up to.

At supper time, Marilla had set the table with her best plates and red checked table cloth. They usually used the plain plates and a table cloth with a few stains on it. Anne wondered if company was coming when she noticed two extra places set at the table. She started to prod Marilla for a clue when a loud knocking came from the front porch.

"Anne, go see who could be here at this hour," ordered Marilla.

"Yes m'am."

Anne scuttled to the front door, turned the knob, and revealed Diana Barry and Gilbert Blythe standing in the snow holding presents.

"Diana! Gilbert! What brings you here?" asked Anne.

"Anne you know I can't resist a party. Happy Birthday!" Diana said as she hugged her amazed friend.

"I just had to come and check on you. I didn't want you to harbor any possums or skunks from the snow," teased Gilbert.

Anne shot him a look of disapproval, but soon she was laughing with a confused Diana. Anne ushered them in from the cold and took their coats and hats. Marilla met them at the dining room and encouraged them to have a seat.

Anne sat across from Marilla and next to Diana. Gilbert politely sat next to Marilla, while Matthew sat at the head of the table. Chatter and friendly banter accompanied the fried chicken, boiled potatoes, gravy, and canned beans. Marilla excused herself from the table and soon returned with a double layer chocolate cake, Anne's favorite. Matthew shut the lights off and lit the candle on the cake with a match from his pocket. An off key chorus sang "Happy Birthday" to Anne, while she sat a little dumbfounded and surprised.

The flickering light illuminated only Anne's face as she blew out the candle with her breath. In that tiny instant, she had snuffed out regret and longing for the past. Hope and an understanding of her background made her realize that life was worth celebrating.

The lights came back on, causing Anne's eyes to adjust to the new brightness. She was finally seeing how enjoyable life was and that she already had a family. Anne smiled at Diana and looked to Gilbert just in time to see a wink. _He was always up to something_, laughed Anne.

Marilla served everyone a huge piece of cake, making sure Anne got the first one. The night seemed absolutely perfect and Anne feared when it would end. Soon empty plates sat around the table and Gilbert excused himself. He reappeared seconds later with an armful of presents. He handed Anne a rather large box that was loosely covered in fabric.

"Anne, this is from me. I hope you don't mind, but I decided you needed a surprise of your own," beamed Gilbert.

The weight in the box shifted, almost causing Anne to drop it. She sat there, almost reluctant to open the gift. She was afraid of what she might find.

"You better hurry, Anne-girl," coaxed Gilbert.

She slowly untied the flowered fabric and found a box with small holes punched along the sides. _Air holes!_ Anne pulled back the folded box flaps and revealed a small calico kitten. The frightened cat looked up at Anne and mewed loudly. The look on Anne's face had everyone laughing, including Marilla.

"I hope you like it Anne. I can guarantee you that this is a real bonefide cat, I even saw her birth," joked Gilbert.

Nobody seemed to understand the hidden clues in his words, but Anne did.

"I told Gilbert it was a fine idea. We have needed a good mouser around here for quite some time now. I hope you like it Anne," said Marilla.

Anne smiled and nodded. She carefully took the kitten out of the box and held it up high in the air, "Patches. That will be your name."


	8. Christmas Cheer

**Christmas Cheer**

The little kitten kept pushing her soft fur against Anne's arm, nudging its cold nose under the limb in sweet anticipation of breakfast. Anne moaned, pushed the cat off the bed, and pulled the warm quilt over her head. She wanted to enjoy the sanctuary the blankets provided from the cold drafts seeping around her. The cat jumped back on the bed, reluctant to give up her efforts, and began kneading Anne's hidden form with retracting sharp claws.

"Go Away Patches!" Anne's muffled voice exclaimed.

Anne could hear the kitten's faint purr as it's shadow rubbed along the tent she had created. _I suppose I should get out of bed. I can't stand when I am hungry and the poor kitten has a smaller stomach than I do. Anyway, I need to help Marilla so I can meet Diana later._

She threw the covers off her body, exposing herself to the chilly morning. Sounds of Marilla clanging pots downstairs in the kitchen let Anne know that she had being lazy and her chores needed to be completed before they could eat. Anne rolled her warm stockings and stuffed a foot in each one, slowly unrolling them up along the curves of her legs. She stripped her heavy nightgown off her body and slipped a blue wrap around dress over her shoulders.

Steam puffed from her mouth as her warm breath met the cold air upstairs. Shivers raced through her body, forcing her not to linger long. She fumbled with the bobby pins holding her hair into curls and released the long waves down her shoulders. She had pinned and unpinned her hair enough to make it look simple and routine. A flick of the wrist, and a moment later, she was brushing the waves smooth with an old hair brush. The mew of the cat reminded Anne of the chores and responsibilities she needed to tend.

Marilla stood at the stove stirring a pot of vegetable soup. The smell of onions, meat, and tomato juice simmering wafted across the warm kitchen and made Anne smile. Today was Christmas Eve, thought she wasn't a child anymore Anne still felt giddy and excited on Christmas Eve.

"Marilla, do you need any help?" eagerly asked Anne as she grabbed a cold biscuit sitting on the table.

"Not at the moment, but have you helped Matthew in the barn with your other chores?" reminded Marilla.

Anne shook her head and munched on the flaky starch. She had other things on her mind today, chores were not high on her list. Diana would be meeting her after lunch at the mile section between the two farms to finish working on their Christmas presents at the Sad House. Anne had carefully knit Marilla a red shawl and Matthew a new scarf, hat, and mittens. She just needed to trim the gifts in a soft white yarn Diana had left over from a doll blanket she made for Minnie Mae, her little sister.

Anne and Diana had been sneaking away to the Sad House ever since Matthew had given Anne a key. It was their refuge from the gloom of the winter and ever prying family. They had cleaned the parlor and swept the chimney, allowing them to keep warm by a fire. It was quaint- peeling wallpaper and cobwebs were the only adornments- but that didn't bother the two friends any. Laughter decorated the forlorn house, making it suddenly come alive, full of love again. The most expensive and elaborate wall paper or cultured art couldn't compare to the girl's comraderie.

A loud hiss at the stove brought Anne out of her dreams and back into reality. Marilla muttered something under her breath as she adjusted the pot and wiped at the red liquid bubbling down it's sides. Anne marveled at all the goodies and work the lady had created just for two days of the entire year. Sugar cookies, molasses chews, dinner rolls, fudge, and soup for tonight. Tomorrow promised even better fare: wild turkey, stuffing, rolls, mashed potatoes, gravy, corn, and a pumpkin pie! Anne's mouth began salivating, making her day old biscuit suddenly seem unappealing.

Anne shoved the last of her breakfast in her mouth, grabbed her coat, hat, mittens, and slipped her feet into her boots. She looked at Marilla and waved, and she left the shelter of the house to find Matthew. Patches slipped alongside her feet knowing that soon her tummy would be full, too.

Matthew was busy milking the cows, so much so, that he didn't notice Anne come in and out fulfilling her daily chores. She know had time to help Marilla in the kitchen with lunch and soon she could be with Diana giggling and talking about their hopes and dreams. Anne couldn't wait to see Marilla and Matthew's faces tomorrow morning when they opened her presents for them. The morning seemed to drag on and on, but soon she had finished the lunch dishes and rang out her drying cloth.

"Marilla, Diana and I were planning to meet down the road for awhile. She has something she wants me to see," stretched Anne.

"I suppose you could run along, but don't you get into any trouble," warned Marilla as she fussed over some needlework at the kitchen table.

"We won't, Marilla," reassured Anne as she put on her coat and bee lined for the door.

"Anne, you don't be gone too long. We will leave for church about 6 to catch the Sunday School program," said Marilla without looking up from her stitching.

The banging of the screen door echoed among the still farm scene. Snow and ice glistened in the bright sunlight, causing Anne to squint. She slowed her run to a more lady like walk and drank in the scenery about her. It was beautiful, better than a Norman Rockwell painting on Marilla's magazine. Diana's dark blue coat stood out against the white blanketing the Earth. Anne immediately recognized her, but there was someone else standing beside her. Anne squinted against the glare and noticed that Diana was accompanied by a young man that Anne didn't recognize.

Suspiciously, Anne slowed her pace to get a better view of the couple ahead of her. _Were they holding hands?_, worried Anne. _Why hadn't Diana ever mentioned this fellow to me before? Who is he?_

Diana noticed Anne and suddenly a gloved arm brandished about, welcoming Anne upon the scene. A smile spread across Diana's face and she hastened her walk into a quick jog.

"Anne! Oh, Anne!" beamed Diana, "I have someone I would like you to meet. This is Fred Wright."

Anne immediately assessed the young man. He was average height, but a little on the plump side. Sandy blonde waves poked out from under his rabbit skin hat. He had an honest look about him, his blue eyes seemed pure enough. Anne nodded and shook his outreached hand. _Atleast he has a strong grip._

"Nice to meet you, Anne," stammered a shy Fred, "Diana has told me so much about you."

Anne didn't know what to say. She hadn't heard a mention of him or any Fred for that matter. She looked him in the eye, and coldly replied, "Likewise Mr. Wright."

Diana stared at Anne, afraid of the wrath she might unleash on poor Fred, "Anne, I am sorry to bring Fred along, but I so desperately wanted you two meet and my parents won't allow Fred to visit me. I hope you don't mind."

"I don't really mind, Diana," said Anne, but then whispered into her friend's ear, "Why didn't you mention him earlier?"

The trio walked quietly down the snow packed road to Anne's birthplace. Anger was begining to well in Anne's mind as she mulled over Diana's intruder. She was supposed to know everything about her best friend. _How could Diana have kept something like him a secret?_ What-ifs and why's ran circles in Anne's overactive imagination. After a mile walk she finally decided to let her inner voice rest and give Fred a chance. Afterall, he was Diana's friend.

Inside, cozy with warmth from the fire, the group began to chat. Fred was really a nice guy. He liked to fish and hunt, loved to play baseball, farmed with his father, and was looking into buying a few acres from Thomas Lynde a few miles North of town. Anne couldn't understand Diana's parent's adversion to him. Finally, Anne tied her last stitch and smiled. She was ready for tomorrow atleast.

"Fred, will you be escorting Diana to the Sunday School program tonight?" questioned Anne.

With hesitation, he responded softly, "No. I don't think a Catholic would be very welcomed by your church."

Shock showed on Anne's glowing face, "You're Catholic?"

"Anne, please not you too!" exclaimed a worried Diana, "I was so scared to tell you."

"I... I ... don't know what to think... I couldn't understand why you were not good enough for Diana's parents... now I understand... Diana! A Catholic!" rambled Anne.

"Nobody understands!", screamed Diana, "Catholics and Lutherans are basically the same religion, give or take a confessional and a priest."

Anne sat dumbfounded and stared at the pair. _What a scandal! Diana came from a well respected Lutheran family, no body would accept a Catholic in the family. Catholics and Lutherans didn't even go to the same schools, yet date and get married! _

Fred stood up and helped Diana to her feet. He held her hand and looked down at Anne seated on the rug near the fire. "Good day Anne. It was a pleasureful afternoon."

And that was it. The couple strode out of the Sad House, leaving Anne alone with the dying flames, ashes and embers.

Later that night, Anne and the Cuthberts sat in their usual pew in the crowded church. Large cedar trees, placed at the front of the alter, covered in white and gold ornaments filled the long room with the scent of evergreen. Everyone was dressed in their best clothes and women wore the hats reserved for funerals, weddings, Easter, and Christmas. The children of the Sunday School were busy fidgeting in their rows, barely supressing their joys for what waited at home tonight and tomorrow. Soon they would be feasting on Marilla's soup and sharing stories of Christmas's past. Anne couldn't hold onto the anger in her heart with so much joy surrounding her. Songs and verses of the wonders of the Nativity filled the space, she couldn't fight off the joy returning. _It is so hard to be testy when it's Christmas Eve._

She gazed over to the Barry family and spied Diana. Diana looked sick and sullen. Anne hated seeing her so upset and withdrawn from the celebration. Anne vowed silently to herself and the angels around her that she would help Diana be happy, even if that meant with a Catholic.


	9. A Little Blue Ribbon

**A LITTLE BLUE RIBBON**

Anne stood with chalk in hand and smiled coyly at Gilbert as he stumbled over a arithmetic problem on the blackboard. She had already finished and now enjoyed seeing him fret and ponder over the numbers. It was their first day back from Christmas Vacation and Anne was relishing in the fact that she had out smarted Gil. Diana sat in her desk and snickered as Gilbert nervously erased part of his work and started again. Anne winked toward Diana as he began rubbing his palms on his pants and shifted his feet.

"What's wrong Gilbert?" asked Anne eyeing his apparent troubles.

"Nothing Anne, I just had my mind on other things and now I just need to sort this out," writhed Gilbert at Anne's confrontation.

Slowly, he managed to work out all the numbers and come to an answer. He dropped the chalk in the rail along the bottom of the chalk board and wiped the dust off his strong hands. He examined Anne's work and boasted a smile her direction. She snuffed him off and returned to her seat across from Diana. Miss Stacey stood up from her hunched position over a first grader's back and looked over the problems displayed on the board.

With a shake of her head, Miss Stacey pronounced, "Gilbert you have done an excellent job. Anne, you need to check over the next to last step and examine your work. Class, Gilbert's problem is correct. Check your answer and work with his on the board."

A snicker behind Anne's back made her ears flame red. She turned around and encountered Gilbert's laughing eyes. Her eyes flashed and her mouth pulled tight, "Gilbert Blythe, you sir have not had the last laugh."

Diana gently touched Anne on the shoulder refocusing her anger and attention. The two girls looked into each other's eyes with Diana's deep blue comforting the piercing aqua of Anne's. Anne took a breath and looked down at her desk, she really didn't mean to be so competitive, especially with Gil. She fumbled with the short yellow pencil's eraser and began reworking her alogorithm. Atleast, Gil couldn't see the mess she was making on her paper.

The last minutes of the day drug slowly by while a frustrated Anne worked over the last of her math homework, but at last Miss Stacey rang the brass bell sitting on her desk. All eyes and ears were focused on their caring teacher, listening for further instruction. Anne fussed over her skirt and smoothed it over her nobby knees while sitting in her seat anxious to get out of the school and talking with Diana on their walk home.

"Class, I just wanted to remind everyone about the Box Social in town tonight. The whole town will be there and all the girls in school are supposed to bring a decorated box or basket with a lunch for two and boys you need to remember your money," stated Miss Stacey and chuckled, "Remember girls, that you are not supposed to tell anyone how to decipher your box from the rest on the table."

Anne sighed, she really dreaded the whole Box Social. She had never been to one and it appeared that she may end up eating dinner all alone. She couldn't figure out why anyone would enjoy auctioning off a decorated lunch to raise money for library books. Diana had told her that last year a few girls had secretly told certain boys which boxes they had brought, hoping to ensure they would bid on their dinner. According to Diana, Ruby Gillis had to eat dinner with an old pig farmer because Charlie Sloane had ran out of money and was outbid by the farmer. Anne didn't want to wind up with a stranger, let alone by herself. She nervously looked around the room at the boys cleaning off their desk tops and gathering their coats and hats. Who could she trust to bid on her box?

There was Charlie and he was an alright guy, but Anne was nervous about relying on him to have enough money saved for the auction after hearing Ruby's plight. Moody might work, but he liked to play tricks on the girls and she didn't want to endure a night of torture and second guessing. Gil was the only other male about her age. She was still mad at him for solving the math problem, but reasoned that atleast he was polite and fun. Bitterly, she swallowed her hurt pride and decided to drop hints toward Gil and see if he had any special boxes in mind for tomorrow. _Gil was better than nothing_, gided Anne to herself.

Diana nudged Anne in the ribs and handed Anne her coat, "What were you dreaming about this time, Anne Shirley? OR Could it be a whom?"

Diana hinted to Anne and glanced toward Gilbert.

_Why did Diana have to be so intuitive at times_, thought Anne.

"Oh, Diana Barry! You won't be happy until I have someone to chase, will you?" teased Anne as she gathered her books and followed her friend out the door.

Laughter from the young children erupted as they raced from the confines of the one room school house. Anne longed to run about and chase alongside them in the snow, but she was content with Diana by her side whispering about the forbidden Mr. Wright. Anne was still sorting out her feelings when it came to Fred and Diana. She was happy for her friend and would do anything for her happiness, but at the same time she feared that Fred would take her friendship away. Anne knew she shouldn't fear or be jealous of Fred, but sometimes it felt like he was the enemy.

SMACK! A cold mass of snow plunged into Anne's back, splattering cold flakes onto her neck and down her coat collar. She turned around and glared at a beaming Gilbert. His grin played with the rose color on his cheeks and highlighted the sparkles of blue looking Anne's way.

"Gilbert Blythe! Why I ought to," yelled Anne as she bent down and cupped a ball of snow in her orange mittens.

She posed and hurled the snow toward the dashing target. Gil stepped back and laughed. She missed! Anne never missed anything, except for that math problem. Anne bent down again and fashioned a sloppy orb, but before she was finished a thump and tingle of wet on her face made her glare up. She stood and wiped the snow from her face and laughed. She didn't know why she laughed, she was furious, but it felt right. Gilbert began laughing and walked over to the cold and covered Anne.

"Anne, if I didn't know you better I would say you were a snow angel," confessed Gilbert as he stared dreamily into her eyes.

It was that brief moment that sent Anne's world crashing down around her like the melting drops of water slipping down her cheeks. Gilbert was really special and a gentleman. _Maybe, just maybe, he might be my kind of guy._

"Gil, I think you were hit in the head with a rock disguised as a snowball," teased Anne as she tried to break the tension between the couple.

"Anne? Anne? Are you alright?" questioned Diana as she trudged close to the playing pair.

"I am fine Diana, but I fear Gilbert is a bit delusional," smiled Anne.

"I better get going girls, will you two be at the social tonight?" asked Gilbert in Anne's direction.

"Certainly. What kind of citizen's would we be if we didn't help the library out?" added Diana, breaking the obvious line of questioning.

Gilbert nodded to the two and then slyly asked, "What might your boxes be sporting tonight? Just in case I want to eat in peace with a friend."

"I haven't decorated my box yet," lied Diana. She had already told Fred about the fake poinsetta she attached on a wicker basket. She didn't want Gil to accidentally interfere with her plans.

"I don't know yet, but I will put a ribbon on it that matches the one in my hair," blurted out Anne, and then she quickly covered her anticipation, "Just in case."

"I suppose gals, I better get home. The cows need to be milked and I definetly want to get to town in time for the box social," bid Gil as he turned and walked back down the frozen road.

Anne smiled and suddenly she looked forward to tonight's planned social. Her mind danced about, waltzing with the idea of Gilbert as a beau. She barely heard a word Diana said the rest of the walk home and Diana knew it. The two friends split halfway and soon found themselves tackling the task of preparing a dinner for two special young men.

Anne finished tying the package with a blue satin ribbon. She had just enough to tie a small bow in her hair, hopefully Gilbert would put two and two together. She feared who she might end up eating dinner with if he didn't use the sense God had given him and hopefully his earthly father had given him some cents also. Anne snickered at the thought and followed Marilla and Matthew out the door with her box in tow.

The trip to town was one of the longest she had ever made. It seemed to take hours as the small truck bumped along the two miles to town. Anne stared out the window and marveled at the illuminated fields of reflected light from the moon. It was brilliantly white and dark at the same time, a person didn't need to use a light or lamp on a night like that. Stars glowed against the black back drop surrounding Anne and the Cutthberts. Smells of fried chicken and Marilla's lilac water filled the cab, allowing Anne to relax her tightened muscles a bit. She was comforted by the roar of the engine and Matthew "puttering" with his lips as he drove them over the last hill before town.

Eventually, the truck pulled up in front of the city auditorium. Cars and trucks already lined the streets. Children played and ran around on the sidewalks as their parents and older siblings made their way into the front door. The lights were blazing and warmth radiated out of the gaping door. Anne sucked in a deep breath and swallowed the lump in her throat as she stepped into the crowded mass.

Gilbert stood hidden in a corner near the East wall where he had a clear view of the entrance. He immediately noticed Anne's red hair and blue ribbon when she stepped into the hubub of towns people. Gilbert stopped sipping on his punch and gently jiggled his pants pocket checking for his money. He really wanted her box and silently prayed he had enough money along to buy it. He was so intent on watching Anne that he didn't notice two boys from town checking out Anne.

Roy Gardener and Fred stood near a table that was heaped with boxes. Fred already knew which one he was going to bid on, but poor Roy couldn't choose. He was a bit of a player, a real ladies man. He stood nearly 6 feet tall and was lean and athletic. His blonde hair was always smoothed and in place accentuating his square jaw and dimpled chin. He had dark brown eyes that gleamed with pride and playfulness. His hands were smooth and uncallused from lack of hard work, but his mind was sharp and he had very deep pockets. He leaned back on the table with his arms crossed across his wide chest displaying the shoulder width any man would be proud to posess. Roy was definetly a man to be reckoned with, but he had never had to vie for anything before. His charm and natural luck always got him what he wanted, until he encountered Anne. The fiery red head barely glanced his way. She nodded to Fred as she passed, but didn't even acknowledge the handsome man perched beside his friend. Immediately, he longed to acquaint himself with her. She was new and obviously didn't know what she was missing out on.

Anne looked around scanning the room for Diana or a friendly face, unaware of the attention she was drawing from two of the most eligible bachelors in the county. She barely recognized Fred among the socializing neighbors and didn't pay any attention to his friend. Anne quickly placed her box with the others and began to search the crowd. She had other issues pressing her mind at the moment.

The loud knock from a gavel stopped Anne and the crowd in their tracks. An elderly gentleman with a waxed moustache and bushy white hair stood on the small risers at the back of the hall. He rapped the gavel one more time and soon held the audience's attention. With a strong voice he ordered all men participating in the box social to gather near the podium for the auction to begin. With sounds of shuffling feet and several "excuse me"'s later, the group stood awaiting the auction. Anne's mouth went dry as the auctioneer started calling out bids for a little box with pink stripes and purple flowers.

In a fast, rolling dialogue the auctioneer finally yelled, "SOLD at $3.45 to the young man in front!"

Soon, boxes and smiling young men were leaving the auction sight, in search of their creators and dinner partners. A few girls stood alone at the back of the room. Anne finally noticed Diana and her little sister Minnie Mae. Diana waved and soon pointed to the podium. A young boy was carrying Anne's box to the auctioneer and soon the bidding started. Anne noticed Gilbert raise his hand to make a bid, but then another hand flew up. It belonged to a boy she had never met, but she didn't think the term boy fit the masculine figure upping her bid. Soon the bidding was between Gilbert and this fellow, with the price beginning to rise higher and higher. Anne stood in shock. Why would this man want her box? Did he know it was hers?

"SOLD for $8.34 to Roy Gardener!" yelled the auctioneer as he slammed his gavel and started on the next package.

Anne didn't know what to do. She had planned on eating dinner with Gilbert, not a stranger. Gilbert sullenly looked over at Anne, making her stomach knot up. His eyes looked so sad, like deep pools in the creek near the Hammond's house. Anne tried to smile and not show her disappointment, but it did little good. Gilbert patted his pocket and waved his hands up in defeat as he mouthed "I'm sorry."

"I think this belongs to you," said Roy to Anne as he held out the blue ribbon that had been tied around her box. Gilbert's box.

Anne looked up into his face and was speechless. Carefully he tied the length around her wrist and took her arm. Linked, he walked her over to a secluded corner and sat her down. Anne sat and soon found herself wrapped up in this man named Roy. She was so smitten with his ideas and jokes that she didn't see Gilbert bid on Minnie Mae's dinner for $2.34 or the look of despair still in his eyes as he watched Anne and Roy.


	10. Strokes

**Strokes **

Anne stared at the perfect male specimen reclining on the hard floor next to her. He fumbled with the blue ribbon of the box, allowing her to reflect on the change of plans. She spied a sullen Gil escorting Minnie Mae near an unoccupied corner, but a muffled laugh focused her wandering mind onto her newly acquired date. Her eyes surveyed the young man, and she sat enthralled with a vision that Rembrandt would have relished. Roy Gardener's sly grin and sparkling brown eyes were a rich combination causing her skin to quiver. The yellow aura of the over hanging light gleamed in his blonde hair, which was stylishly combed back behind his ears. His square chin and high cheek bones framed his symmetrical face, just as if Michaelangelo had sculpted him with his chisel. Roy was a work of high class art and Anne appreciated her private viewing with great secracy.

Roy moaned in frustration and flashed his dark gaze her way. Anne's cheeks blushed and immediately she wished Diana had revealed more about flaunting and flirting. Anne laughed at Roy as he ripped open the side of their box and daintily placed the ribbon upon his head.

"That was definetly undignified means to an end," teased Anne to the humbled man.

"Yes, but was that an end to the means?" retorted Roy as he revealed the meager feast.

One by one, he revealed each item just as a magician pulling a rabbit from his top hat. His twists of the wrists and grand theatrical kept Anne's attention on him and the chicken that had been prepared for Gilbert. Soon laughter, sly smiles, sparkling eyes, and delightful conversation engulfed the two. Neither one of them noticed the other couples mulling about or the constant glares coming from a dark corner near the old piano.

Gilbert's blue eyes darkened and a fog overtook his sight. Minnie Mae innocently chattered away as her partner silently gnawed on a chicken salad sandwich. Gil's insides seamed with anger and self-pity. Tonight was supposed to be his with Anne. He hadn't foreseen Roy Gardener swooping in and snatching his girl. _His Girl_! A sudden epiphany for Gil- she was the guardian of his heart. His shoulders slumped in defeat and he absent mindedly nodded to Minnie Mae's cookie offering._ Gardener had all the luck, money, and charms any man could want. Why did he need Anne?_ Gil snagged a sugar cookie and mindlessly nibbled on the sweet fare.

Behind the table displaying the last remaining baskets, Fred sat hidden with Diana leaning her back into him and holding his hand. Fred tapped Diana's fingers with his thumb and shrugged his shoulders in the direction of Anne and Roy. Diana couldn't believe how into each other the pair was. _Maybe Anne had found the true love that she always dreamed about? Roy was a looker and his pockets weren't empty. Anne and Roy... that is a smart match for her._ Fred whispered a sweet nothing into Diana's ear, derailing her train of thought and refocused them on him. It wasn't often that he could be close to her and he was savoring this opportunity.

Fred placed his hand on the soft sleeve of Diana's dress and nuzzled his nose in the crook of her neck causing goose bumps to pop along her skin. His caress felt so right and his breathe on her neck made her long for a more intimate touch. They loved each other deeply, but it wouldn't matter to her family or his. It would cause a scandal and cloud the families' reputations if they would date, let alone marry. When they were together, they were at peace with their souls and able to put all the nagging voices of their family and church behind them.

How could love be wrong between two christians? Why was everyone against a Catholic marrying a Lutheran, or vice versa? Would God or the fates misdirect them? Diana's mother would say it was the devil tempting them into sin, but Diana had never believed that. The passion was growing between the hidden lovers, making it hard to stop each other's advances. At each encounter, their lust would grow and thrive with each kiss or touch. Diana had deliberated whether it was lust or love, maybe just the fact that Fred was considered forbidden fruit. She finally came to the conclusion that she truly did love Fred and would stay with him no matter what that entailed. Diana shook her head in protest of the disturbing ideas, causing her dark curls to shake and tickle Fred's nose. A loud "Achoo" echoed in the hall making a few heads turn and Diana giggle under her breath.

Fred whispered, "Diana, shhhh... We don't want to draw attention to ourselves."

"Like that sneeze?" jabbed Diana as she ran her fingers over his emerging stubble. She turned her cheek accepting the warmth and wet of Fred's kiss.

"Diana, I see heaven when I look into your eyes," mooned Fred as he nibbled on her ear lobe.

Diana felt herself slip away and become encompassed by Fred's body. She now faced him, propped on her knees, and leaned her pounding chest against his. The sensation of her endowments pressed so closely made Fred pull her close. Their lips locked in passion and his hands instinctively began a migration to the back of her blouse to attempt the "one handed" bra maneuver his brothers had talked about. Soft moans escaped from Diana's mouth as the metal clasps released and the restricting confines of the bra were loosened.

Fred wasted little time with her back, as his hands traveled to a foreign region of Diana's body. He tugged at the ends of her prestinely tucked blouse, creating an entry way to her perky mounds. The rough farmer's hands became a lover's, as he gingerly slid his shaking fingers over the soft tissue and onto the hard ends. A moan and shift in his seated position let her know he approved of the small bumps he was massaging. She sat there, enjoying the pleasure his touch brought her and the light in his eyes. For a moment, they were the only two in the world or the auditorium.

"Diana! Diana!" yelled an eager Minnie Mae as she dashed about the crowd looking for her sister.

Diana pulled away from Fred's heated kiss and wiped her mouth. Fred did the same, but he was attempting to remove the tattling red lipstick she had just bought from the Dime Store last Saturday. The two attempted to put their appearances back in order before anyone noticed the action behind the table, but it was too late. Minnie Mae stood, with her Mother in tow, at the head of the table peering down at the surprised Diana who was buckling her bra back in place. A look of despair and shock hung on her mother's face as the innocent Minnie Mae waved their father over to the scene. Diana stopped with her arms bent back and looked at her family. Fred and Diana had been outed by her over zealous little sister.

"Diana Barry! Get yourself into the car at once!" bellowed her father, almost loud enough for the remaining citizens to hear.

Mrs. Barry put a hand on her husband's shoulder and whispered, "Please don't make a scene. We can deal with this at home."

"Very well," stammered Mr. Barry as his eyes locked in on Fred, "Mrs. Barry seems to feel a need to take Diana home. Since we have discovered this... this...this...scene, you will understand why Diana will not be allowed out or near the likes of you."

Fred began to say something in his defense, but the Barry's backs were already disappearing out the door and into the dark. Fred slumped over and ruffled his hair. _Now what am I to do? I need her, she is my everything. How can I get her back into my arms?_

A soft knock from the table top behind him aroused his attention. Anne stood next to Roy, and both looked bewildered at their distraught friend. Roy bent over the red checkered cloth and put out his hand to help the stunned Fred up.

"Anne, Anne, I have lost her," said Fred as he looked into the orphan's worried eyes.

"Don't be silly, Fred," explained Anne, "Diana just went home for the evening. You two will be back into each other's arms in no time."

"No Anne. Diana's father forbid it," nodded Fred.

"Chin up!" exclaimed Roy as he put his arm around his buddy's slumped shoulders, "It will work out. You'll see."

Anne looked at the friends and knew that Diana must be reeling from heart ache. Somehow, someway, Anne was going to make things right again for Diana. Her mind began churning ideas around, she was even distracted as she bid Roy farewell for the night. She was silent for the drive back to the farm as she pondered over a notion worthy of a novel or Shakespearan play. It was a masterpiece of an idea and tomorrow she would unveil it for her friends.


	11. Soft Insides

**Soft Insides**

Anne found herself seated at the Cuthbert's kitchen table enjoying the breakfast Marilla had prepared for her. It felt good to sit and rest her sore calf muscles. She had rushed through her morning chores in hopes that Marilla would allow her to go visit Diana.

It had been several weeks since the Box Social and that had been the last Anne had a chance to visit with Diana. Diana's parents were so enraged about Fred Wright they cut Diana off from Fred, school, and even Anne. Anne longed to visit her friend and figure out a way to help. Hopefully, Anne could find Diana outside doing her chores and bypass her parents.

Anne nudged her fork into the top of her fried egg, revealing the bright runny inside. She tore a piece of toast and dunked it in the yellow goop. The warm scent of coffee perking on the stove and Marilla's soft hum gave Anne a moment to savor her current situation. The Cuthbert's were really good and decent people- she was lucky to have them in her life.

"Anne-girl, would you like another egg?" questioned Marilla as her hand hovered above the cast iron skillet.

"No thank you. I have had my fill of eggs of late," teased Anne. The recent warm snap had the hens laying dozens of eggs again, creating a surplus for eating and selling when they went to town.

"Me too," said Marilla as she wiped off the counter with an old dishtowel embroidered with the day of the week.

"Marilla? I've finished my chores already. Could I please walk over to Diana's?"

"Anne, I don't know if Mr. Barry would be approving. There's been talk about Diana being in trouble," warned Marilla.

"I know. Diana hasn't been at school or church. She wasn't even in town at the movie last Saturday. I'm really worried."

"Like a good friend should be," chimed in Marilla, "Why would Mr. Barry be so cruel to Diana? He's usually really lax in the discipline department."

"I think it might have to do with Fred Wright from South of town," muttered Anne as she swallowed the last bit of milk in her glass.

"Yea, I'd see why he was keeping her in his line of sight at all times. My Dad always said, 'You can't trust a Catholic with your daughter'," lectured the old lady as set some eggs to boil.

"Why is it so bad that Fred and Diana want to be together?"

"Ahhh, Anne... It's wrong... well... because... Catholics pray to saints... and twist the bible into strange ideas... and... and," stammered Marilla.

"I don't understand. The Catholics I know are decent people and they still believe in the same God we do," reasoned Anne.

"Being a good citizen is one thing, but marrying into it is different. It just isn't done," rebutted Marilla.

"Hmph," breathed Anne as she scraped her plate in the slop bucket and plunged it in the hot sudsy dishwater Marilla had left in the basin.

Anne peered outside and noticed Patches following Matthew with the milk pail to the barn. The window steamed over as Marilla poured the boiling water off the eggs, causing the scene to fade away. Hopefully, it wasn't a promise of the return of winter's fury. Temperatures above freezing and lack of snow were considered a miracle for the last part of February.

"Anne, I'm going to need some more yeast for the sweet rolls. Maybe Mrs. Barry would loan me some until I get to town. Would you please run over and ask?" hinted Marilla.

"Oh Marilla!" Anne flew her wet hands around the woman's neck.

"Just be respectful and be back before lunch."

"I will! I promise! Thank you," squealed Anne as she fumbled with the ties to remove her apron.

Marilla turned back to the steaming eggs resting on the counter waiting to be deviled. If anyone could relate to Diana's plight, it was the old spinster alone in her kitchen with cooked eggs. The steam seemed to melt her protective shell she wore around others. _Poor Diana, it is terrible when love puts you at odds with your family and the longing in your heart._ Marilla slumped her aged shoulders and propped her worn hands on the counter. Tears slipped from behind her ever-mindful eyes as the repressed memories from her youth and first love resurfaced. It had been such a long time since she had even thought of him. Him.

She was like the hens. Kept in a safe pen- away from harm, roosters, or foxes. Over the years she wasted her own eggs each month, but she didn't receive any income for her sacrifice. Instead, after years of pleasing her parents she inherited a fraction of the family farm and life with her silent brother, but what did that matter to someone who had no one to share it with? Marilla choked back her rage and wiped her swollen eyes with the damp dishtowel. _There is no use in drudging up the past. I've had a respectable life and now Anne needs me. Anne- she is worth it._ And with that realization, Marilla smiled her thin lips and began rolling the eggs, cracking the shells, peeling away the hard exterior and revealing the soft innards.

Anne shuffled her feet through the dirt alongside the road's edge as she walked the two miles to the Barry's. Fine dust clouded around her feet and tickled her nose. Everything was dry and barren, making her long for a sign of Spring's return. She was near the edge of the Barry's land and over the next hill she would be able to see their home place. The Barry's had one of the nicest acreages around. A stunning yellow two story house was surrounded by out buildings, a red barn made of brick and wood, a large windmill, and to top it all off, a small pond fed by the creek trickling across their land.

Mr. Sadler, driving his pickup, rumbled past Anne, covering her in a choking fog of sand and gravel. When things had settled, Anne took her sweater's sleeve and rubbed the grit from her eyes and face. She had to look respectable for her visit; Anne didn't want to give Mr. Barry another reason for secluding Diana.

Anne rounded the hill and spied Mr. Barry mending fence near his alfalfa field. Anne waved to him, excited at the prospect of actually getting a chance to see her friend and have a conversation. He appeared engrossed in his task and didn't even notice her.

The warm sun radiated on Anne's face as she danced the rest of the way to the Barry's farm. The barnyard was eerily quiet for such a fine day. Harvey, the Barry's cocker spaniel, lay on his side sleeping on the front porch. He was old, blind, and hard of hearing- rendering him as a most useless guard dog. He had been with the family for nearly fourteen years, making it hard for Mr. Barry to listen to his neighbor's advice to shoot the old thing and get an animal worth its food. Mr. Barry and the family didn't have the heart to hurt Harvey when he seemed to be in no pain. So he still slept on their porch, peed on the same cotton wood tree near the front walk, and ate scraps off his old cracked china plate. Anne chuckled as his feet gyrated, obviously he was dreaming about a most exciting rabbit chase.

Anne stepped over the dozing dog and knocked on the front door. No one came, so she knocked a little louder. The curtain swayed in door's window and the knob slowly turned. The door opened slightly, allowing a crack the width of an inch to divulge who was hidden within.

"Anne?" whispered a surprised Diana.

"I had to come. I was so worried. Marilla sent me over to fetch some yeast from your mother," rushed Anne, "I just needed to make sure you were okay."

The door widened and let Anne cast her eyes upon a disheveled Diana. Her raven black hair hung limp and snarled. Her once playful blue eyes looked sunken and forlorn. Her clothes were wrinkled and sloppily buttoned as if she no longer cared about her appearance. Anne stared at the sight of a depressed Diana.

She hoped her friend hadn't sunk into despair. The image greeting her reminded her of Mrs. Hammond before she attempted suicide. A lump formed in her throat and an overwhelming sensation to cry and hug Diana overtook her sensibilities.

"Are you ill?" asked Anne.

Before Diana had time to respond, Anne had her gangly arms encircled over Diana's shoulders. Harvey perked his ears as if he was sensing the commotion, but laid his tired head back down. Diana's body shuddered and loud sobs resonated through the house. Anne held her friend and hit the door shut with the palm of her hand.

"Oh Anne! I'm such a ninny," cried Diana as she tried to wipe her soggy eyes.

"Nonsense," reassured Anne. "You need to cry and let everything out."

The two girls walked over to the brown davenport and plopped down side by side. Diana grabbed Anne's hand and looked at her stockinged feet. They sat silent hand in hand, for a minute or two.

Diana broke the moment as she cleared her throat and cackled, "I can't ever be with Fred. Father forbids it!"

"I figured that," solemnly responded Anne, "but don't worry. I've got an idea."

"Anne, you are so sweet, but there's no way my Father will ever change his mind. He's even had Reverend Hamilton over. He's made it very clear that he will not tolerate or even entertain the notion of me dating a Papist."

"You are seventeen, Diana. You don't need his or your mother's permission to get married anymore," said Anne in her most serious voice.

"Are you hinting that I... I... Fred and I...get married! Without my parents approval?" gulped Diana in shock.

"You might have to. You can't live this way- you look miserable and empty. When you are with Fred, you glow with joy and delight. If being with Fred will prevent this..." Anne motioned to her current state and thought for a moment, "I think it might be for the best."

"Anne, I couldn't. I mean, I really couldn't."

"Oh1 Bull Honkey! You can!"

"No. I mean Fred has never even brought up marriage. I need him to want me, too. He's probably relieved to be rid of me," rationalized Diana in an effort to protect her hopes from raising.

"Oh Diana!" exclaimed Anne in shock. "You wouldn't say that if you saw his face that night after your Father drug you away. He was so distraught and Gil overheard Fred's father discussing Fred's current mood."

"Fred was upset!" smiled Diana for the first time in weeks.

"I think Fred really loves you. I know you love him. AND nobody can give me a real reason why your relationship is so taboo."

"Fred loves me? That is the most uplifting thought I've had in weeks," let out Diana as her rigid posture relaxed and a hint of pink returned to her placid face.

"Diana you know Fred better than me. Why is it such a surprise?" asked a confused Anne.

"I always imagined he did love me, but I rationalized it so my heart wouldn't be broken."

"Rationalized? Diana you made my heart break when I saw you open that door today. I would say your heart was aching regardless of your walls you attempted to construct."

"Anne Shirley! How bold?" chuckled Diana.

"I know that Fred would want to see the old Diana, not the moping one I discovered today. You probably should put yourself together," hinted Anne. "You never now when someone might show up outside your window."

'Anne, I don't know. My family forbids it and Fred doesn't even have a clue to your plan," interrupted Diana.

"Don't worry about Fred. I'll skip school tomorrow and go into town. Gil said he would give me a ride if I wanted one. Hopefully, I can find Fred. You just get yourself ready, " directed Anne.

"I don't know..." hesitated Diana.

"Shhh," said Anne as she put her finger to her lips. "Things have a way of working themselves out."

"Anne?" quizzed an increasingly alarmed Diana.

"I said not to worry, AND I MEAN THAT!"

"But..."

"Diana Barry- End of discussion. I need to borrow a few tablespoons or a cake of yeast. If I could?" redirected Anne as she stood and smoothed her skirt. "Marilla would tan my hide if I was late and didn't get what she sent me for."

"Anne... just promise me that you won't tell Fred how upset I am. I don't want to be a pity case," stammered Diana as she hobbled up on her feet.

"You won't be, just promise to take care of yourself, Okay?"

"Yes, Mother Anne," joked Diana as they entered into the kitchen.

Mrs. Barry ran a tight ship; everything was tidy and had a specific spot where they belonged. Smells of oil soap and pancakes from breakfast filled the small space. The Barry's were one of the more prominent families in the area and had a lot of the newer contraptions. They even planned on installing a telephone this summer.

Diana opened a cupboard and took a blue Mason jar out. Carefully, she measured four tablespoons of the small brown beads into a teacup for Anne. "Just in case Marilla wants to make an extra batch."

"Or if I spill it on my way home," giggled Anne.

"Anne, I have been so wrapped up in myself that I failed to ask you about Roy Gardener," hinted Diana as she screwed the metal lid back on.

"Roy," mused Anne. Her eyes glazed over and a blush painted over her freckles.

"So?"

"He's so handsome. He's smart and clever. He's everything I dreamed about in the man who I would give my heart to. The only thing wrong with his is that he is near perfect," professed Anne and noticed Diana's puzzled expression. "I just don't believe someone could be so perfect."

"Oh Anne!" laughed Diana. It was becoming clear that Diana needed Anne. She was smiling and talking again. Her visit meant the world to Diana.

"He sat by me at the movie last week and I didn't even marvel over Errol Flynn in all his swashbuckling glory. Roy held my attention all night- he even held my hand. It felt so magical to have his skin against mine."

"Anne's in love, Anne's in love, L-O-V-E, Looooovvvvveeeee!" sang Diana as she leaned her back against the cupboard.

"Diana! I..." defended Anne, but was interrupted by the slamming of the screen door leading into the mudroom hidden off the right side of the kitchen.

Mrs. Barry and Minnie Mae scurried inside to the warmth radiating from the stove. Their faces were red from the cold and their hair was blown askew. They stood in the doorway for a moment as their eyes adjusted.

"I didn't realize we had company," said Mrs. Barry as she put down a jar of jelly and canned beets. "Does Father know Anne's here?"

"I saw Mr. Barry fixing fence on my way here, Mrs. Barry," interceded Anne for her nervous friend. "I am sorry for stopping by unannounced, but Marilla was making sweet rolls and needed to borrow some yeast. She will replace it when she goes to town."

"I lent her some, Mother. I figured it would be all right," added Diana.

"Very well," nodded Mrs. Barry as she set about frying some potatoes for their upcoming lunch. The sizzle and smell of the popping potatoes flooded the kitchen.

"Anne, the weather is changing quickly. I am pretty sure the temperature dropped 15 degrees in the past hour while we were visiting Rachel Lynde. She swears the terrible aches in her knee means a storm is coming and she predicts it will be a real dozy. Her knees haven't given her this much grief since the tornado in 1934," informed Mrs. Barry.

"Diana, do you think it will tornado?" asked a frightened Minnie Mae.

"No, it's still the wrong time of the year for that, but it might snow," exclaimed Diana as she bent down and tweaked the worried girl's nose.

"I better hurry home. I wouldn't want Marilla to be fretting. Thank you for the yeast, Mrs. Barry," said Anne as she walked out to the mudroom.

Diana escorted her outside. Anne winked and waved goodbye. Winds ravaged her hair and tugged at her skirts, as she left the protection of the buildings and turned onto the road. Anne wrapped her knitted sweater across her torso and began longing for her winter coat. Mrs. Lynde may be right with her prediction, but the weather couldn't dampen her mood. Her plan with Diana was beginning to hatch nicely and visions of Roy pranced about her imagination.


End file.
